Camp-Fire Vignettes (Chapter 2: The Manipulative and the Subservient)
by The Geordie Lass
Summary: The description from the first set of vignettes stands: A series of snapshots of what is happening behind the scenes between battles with Ramza & co. This has elements of a novelisation, as it follows the canon story, however, it doesn't just retell it. Instead, it's an exploration of the characters and their relationships, with a little back-story thrown in.
1. 1 - Lionsguards and Sellswords

My first set of Campfire Vignettes covered Chapter 1 of the game, and this not surprisingly will be covering Chapter 2.

Things you should know about the Vignettes, in semi-random order:

1\. Though this is the second set of Campfire Vignettes, they stick to canon, so you absolutely do not have to have read the others to get something out of these. You may enjoy them if you do read them, of course, but they aren't necessary.

2\. However, if you have read them, you may get more out of this set – that goes doubly for having read Just Another Sellsword, which will give you an early introduction to Ladd, who isn't a personality-free generic, here. That one's just a short-story, so I would recommend that you read it at some point, as it won't take too long. (Click through to my profile to find it)

3\. Feel free to ignore points 1. and 2. and just read and (hopefully) enjoy.

4\. I promise, mostly these will not dip into the realms of depression that the post-kidnapping vignettes sometimes did, last time around. Ramza's still a bit depressed and still working through his grief, but he's trying hard not to wear his heart on his sleeve. It may not be all sunlight and flowers, but I'll try to steer clear of the deepest dark pits too.

5\. They're not really a novelisation; they're more like a series of connected short stories, though they aren't quite that either. When I conceived the idea, I set myself the challenge of writing at least one vignette for each "day" of story-line game-play. (If you've played the game you probably have some idea of what I'm on about, even though I'm not explaining it well.) They're meant to elaborate on the characters in the game, who could use some fleshing out.

6\. I'm not the world's most accomplished writer, but I do try hard not to suck too badly, either. I sometimes fail, though. Argath (tosser!), for instance, was woefully underdeveloped in the first set of vignettes. If you feel I'm doing badly at something, tell me, please (though try not to be too unpleasant – life's too short for people to be needlessly unpleasant to each other, don't you think?) :)

7\. I'm a reasonably fast touch typist, which means that I can do stream of consciousness straight onto the "page". This leads to each vignette's header and footer becoming altogether too wordy, when I don't rein myself in - which I'm about to do right now!

Almost lastly (phew!) - the part of this that isn't quite canon is that instead of exactly a year having passed since the Ziekden Fortress disaster, it's been just over fourteen months. Not a huge difference, but worth pointing out.

Lastly lastly, as I've already hinted, I'd really appreciate any **constructive** criticism/reviews/comments – I appreciate all of them and I always try to ensure I respond individually to each one. I also try to apply any suggestions about style, retrospectively if necessary.

* * *

**Vignette 1 – Lionsguards and Sellswords**

_A clearing, just off the Orbonne to Dorter road, late evening_

Eight hours after the Princess' abduction, they set up camp, unable to go on in the darkness. The rain, thank the gods, had finally stopped an hour or so before.

Lady Agrias simply gave Goffard Gaffgarion and his two men a fulminating glance, grabbed up their empty water skins and stalked off into the night, towards the stream they had passed five minutes before, shaking her head and muttering balefully.

After unbuckling and removing his heavy breastplate, the youngest of the mercenaries started a fire and then tentatively approached the elder of the two remaining female knights, who was just finishing erecting the women's tent. Though her demeanour wasn't as hostile as her captain's, none of the women's attitudes, during the afternoon's forced march, could have been described as friendly.

"Lady Lavian, isn't it? I'm Ramza, I act as our little squad's quartermaster. Shall we pool our rations and I'll see if I can cook all of us up something edible. After the soaking we've all had, I think something hot would be preferable."

"Can you cook?" The knight asked him, sceptically. Ramza sighed very slightly.

"I... well, I'm no Master chef, but I'm not too bad. We picked up some fresh bread and a couple of cheeses at the monastery this morning and Ladd shot a couple of rabbits this afternoon – he's preparing them – and I thought I could smell wild garlic a few hundred yards back, so I'll go and investigate. As I said, something hot after all that marching would be welcome, so, er... a thick soup... or... something?" The women's unfriendliness made him nervous.

"I'll go and smell out the garlic; the soup sounds like a good idea. Alicia can tell you what we can contribute." She added as she turned away. Ramza turned to glance at the younger woman, who, by the look of her, wasn't much older than he - perhaps nineteen to his eighteen. To be fair, he thought, the Lady Lavian probably wasn't older than Ladd, who was twenty-one.

He also noticed that Lady Alicia was wan and sickly-looking and he remembered that Ladd had had to Phoenix Down her during the fight. There was a decent-sized rock next to the fire and he gestured for her to seat herself on it. He rummaged in one of his food bags until he found an apple. He polished it briefly against his jerkin before he handed it to her.

She smiled at him gratefully before biting into it – a regular supply of fruit, or anything else sweet, was a real boon in the hours after being resurrected – if you couldn't just rest, like you were meant to, it stopped you from experiencing the worst of the tremors and cold sweats that could develop, ultimately, into unconsciousness. Of course unconsciousness, or rather sleep, was actually the very best thing for recovery, but there had barely been time for her to grab a handful of dried fruit to eat as they walked, never mind take a nap.

"If you can just tell me what supplies you have and where to find them, I'll make a start on that soup. Once you've finished that apple, you should probably try to get a little sleep – even a few minutes is a big help in recovering, I've always found. I'll make sure someone wakes you in time for supper." He gave her a hesitant smile, which she returned with far less uncertainly.

"I'll go in just a moment but I'd better tell you about the supplies before I do. We've some barley and vegetables that we can donate, in that pack over there, but in the rush to leave, I think we left behind the more sophisticated foodstuffs we were going to be carrying for the princess. We've plenty of bowls for some reason, though, so soup sounds a good idea. I'm not a bad cook, and I would offer to help, but I can barely stop myself shaking. When it comes to cooking, Lavian isn't much good, but I gather that she's miles better than Lady Agrias, so if you need a hand, I'd ask Lavian."

"Ladd's pretty awful at cooking too," The other man grinned cheerfully and made a vaguely threatening gesture at his colleague, with the knife he was using to skin the rabbit. Ramza just smiled back, "but he's good at bringing down small game with a crossbow, then dressing it. Ser Gaffgarion... just... well, he just leaves us to it."

Alicia glanced across at the large, dark man, who had produced a wineskin from somewhere in the packs and was sitting, taking the occasional swig, glowering into the fire.

"Is he always so cheerful?" Alicia asked quietly. Ramza glanced quickly at his leader, then nodded very slightly with a small smile on his face.

"What about your captain?" He asked equally quietly.

"She's been head of the princess' guard since just after the war ended and she's developed a genuine affection for her Highness; she must be beside herself with worry. She's normally somewhat more... personable than she has been today." Again, he nodded slightly, then began to sort out the soup ingredients. Alicia headed for her tent and a nap. Ramza smiled briefly at her retreating back, it was a relief that one of the Lionsguards showed no hint of hostility.

* * *

Ingredients chopped finely, even a substantial soup doesn't take long to cook and all six of them sat around the fire, eating it with the excellent Orbonne bread and wedges of cheese, less than an hour later, the newly awoken Alicia yawning but looking a little less pale and unwell. After dinner, Gaffgarion took a new wineskin to bed with him, grunting out something to Ladd and Ramza about splitting the night watches between them.

Agrias watched him go, feeling a sense of relief that his sour, coarse presence had been removed. Of course, she was pretty sour herself, this evening, she acknowledged inwardly. She wished that the other two sellswords could be disposed of as easily as their boss but, as they were chatting fairly companionably with her two subordinate knights and it was still relatively early in the evening, she could hardly send them to bed like naughty children.

The two young men had surprised Agrias by being well-spoken and less uncouth than their master. She had let the conversation between Alicia, Lavian and them wash over her, only hearing portions of it between her bouts of brooding.

Ladd, the elder and far more garrulous of the two, was speaking now.

"... we didn't really know each other at the Akademy, of course, I was three years ahead of Ramza, but I recognised him, almost immediately, when we ran into each other in Dorter about two months ago. Ser Gaffgarion was looking for another man and I knew he wouldn't turn away an Akademy trained fighter."

"You're both Gariland Akademy graduates and you're working as sell-swords?" Agrias found herself saying, sceptically. Ladd gave a slight start as he heard her voice; it was the first time she had spoken all evening.

"Ah... well, my lady, I never said either of us actually _graduated._" Ladd said with a rueful smile. "Perpetual squires, doomed to never be truly knighted, I'm afraid - the pair of us." He added with a shrug.

She raised a brow but said nothing more – she'd just given the only contribution she was to make to the conversation. She went back to brooding quietly about how she could have been such a fool as to leave the princess without a single guard at her side, except poor Elsebee, who had dragged herself into the room to warn them about the attack, while she was appallingly injured.

Still sceptical about the pair's claim to have gone to such a prestigious training school, she half-listened as Ladd explained, somewhat sheepishly, that one of the instructors had been unhappily married to a much younger woman and how he, Ladd, had been expelled after being found in a compromising situation with her. It was clear that he saw himself as something of a ladies' man, if his attempts at flirtation with Lavian, in particular, was anything to go by, so she felt that, if she could believe anything, it would be this story.

Asked laughingly by Alicia if he had also had to leave school after seducing one of the masters' wives, Ramza had just blushed a little and mumbled something about being forced to leave after having problems with his family in his final year.

Agrias' thoughts about everything she could have done differently, today, were briefly interrupted by the regret that all three of the women had served their apprenticeships out at the Yardrow Akademy instead of Gariland and hence couldn't verify or disprove the young men's claims. From what had been said about the men's ages, Lavian would have been in the same year as Ladd, Agrias a year ahead of them and Alicia in the class above of Ramza, had they all been at the same school.

She rose suddenly, announcing her intention of going to bed.

"Two watches only – I'll take second. Alicia, you don't need take a watch, tonight." It was clear that Alicia would not be completely over being resurrected until she had had a full night's rest. She nodded gratefully and followed Agrias to their tent. Ramza got up and headed off to bed, himself, stopping to slap his friend on the shoulder and murmur.

"I'll let you take your watch with Lady Lavian, but do _try_ to behave yourself, all right?" Ladd grinned at him and made a gesture as if adjusting a halo above his head. Ramza only grimaced slightly at him.

* * *

Ladd shook Ramza awake for his watch in the early hours. He emerged from the tent at the same time as the Lady Agrias left hers. He saw her shiver slightly, in the early Autumn chill, and nodded towards the fire.

"Warm yourself, my lady, I'll walk the perimeter." He finished doing up the buckles of the straps that held his dark-painted breastplate in place, as he reached the line of trees.

After ten minutes he returned to her. She sat turned away from the fire, as if trying to keep some night vision, but she wasn't looking around, just staring fixedly at the ground. He looked at her thoughtfully, sighed, then after asking her permission to sit, settled down near her, peering off into the dark woods for signs of trouble. Suddenly she spoke fiercely.

"After the fight, you said that you thought that you recognised _him_. Who is he and how do you know him?" Ramza took a deep steadying breath, he'd expected this question to come much earlier, though he still felt unprepared to answer it.

"His name is Delita Heiral, we were close friends as children. It... it might help if I tell you that we were brought up to show the utmost respect to women and I promise you, he won't harm the princess."

"And I suppose he rendered her unconscious using _respectful_ _behaviour_?" She almost spat the words at him. Ramza looked off into the darkness.

"No... I... no, you're right. I haven't seen him in over a year, but the Delita I knew would never have done that. Yet... I _still_ feel certain he won't do anything more to harm her." Delita liked pretty girls - a lot - but he wasn't disrespectful towards them.

"You fill me with _such_ confidence." She said, witheringly. "So... are you working with him?"

"What? No! Why... How could you even...?"

He realised his voice was louder than it should be while the others were sleeping and trailed off. He took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. When he did, he forced himself to replace the indignation in his tone with a measure of calm he didn't entirely feel.

"Of course, I realise that it is rather a coincidence and you have no reason to trust me. Working for Goffard Gaffgarion is hardly a recommendation, after all, is it? But please think about it for a moment. Would I have confessed to knowing him if I was part of this plot?"

"Possibly not," she conceded grudgingly, "but I still want to know more details – tell me about this Delita and how you know him."

He cleared his throat slightly then began slowly, each word feeling like a punch to his gut. He didn't want to paint a negative picture of Delita, especially after all this time thinking he was dead... but for him to be involved in this... Ramza knew in these circumstances that he had to be as honest as possible for the princess' sake.

"Delita is ambitious and he's very good at planning and solving problems – he sees what he wants and he doesn't stop until he achieves his goal. Above all, though, he's a pragmatist - you need to understand that – it's his greatest asset when he's planning something. He'll have thought about what to do if we catch up with him and he'll know how to react to get what he needs from the situation.

"As for how we knew each other, his mother and mine were best friends, when they were girls. After his parents and most of the rest of his family died of plague ten years ago, he and his sister came to live with my family. He and I are the same age to within a few months and we each had a sister only a year or so younger, so we all four became _very_ close. My two brothers are a lot older than the four of us, so while I respected them, I was far closer to Delita, Tietra and Alma than I ever was to my brothers. Tietra, Delita's sister, died a little over a year ago. I was _certain_ that Delita had been killed on the same day. I was injured myself, but even so... I just _assumed_... which means I left him for dead... and he wasn't_._" The last was said in a hoarse horror-stricken voice. This was something he'd been trying, all day, to avoid thinking about.

Ramza sat for a few moments more, as distracted as Lady Agrias, who hadn't seemed to take in much above half of what Ramza had said, but then he sighed and pushed himself to his feet. He headed off to the treeline to patrol again. He couldn't truthfully have called himself "on watch" though, as the tears that he had been holding back after forcing himself to recall that terrible day, complete with this new, horrifying realisation, quickly began to cloud his vision.

* * *

_Earlier that night, the woods close to Dorter._

"I _said_, no thank you." Her tone could have frozen any of the more fiery nether-hells.

"Your Highness, you must eat _something_." The dark man spoke well and, apart from the blow that had taken her senses, he had been strangely courteous. There was bread, cheese and a pasty of some sort on the metal plate he had tried to hand her. The deep brown eyes regarded her, glanced at the plate and back at her again. She watched him tear a small piece off each of the foodstuffs and pop them into his mouth. After swallowing them, he spoke again.

"I apologise for handling your food, but as you can see, there's no poison or drugs." He said, after a few moments, proffering the plate again - she didn't take it from him.

"I'm not hungry. Surprisingly, it appears that being assaulted and kidnapped does _nothing_ for my appetite!" She folded her arms and glared at him.

"Sarcasm, and a whole sentence - we appear to be making progress... I'm truly sorry I hit you, Princess. I don't expect you to believe this, but what I did today saved your life." He looked at her for a long moment, his face inscrutable, then looked away and grabbed up a couple of branches and threw them onto the campfire, almost as if he was made uncomfortable by her continued glare.

"You're right; I don't believe you!" She said and heard him sigh. He glanced back at her plate of untouched food and set it down on the grass next to her, reaching into the packs and producing a pasty for himself. He'd eaten more than half of it before he spoke again.

"You know, Princess, I remember one time when I was a little boy, I refused to eat my dinner. My grandmother, who lived with us, had it served to me for breakfast again the following day and told me that I'd be given that at every meal until I learned to appreciate that food doesn't come for free and we have to eat what we are given. Though, I think, what I actually learned was that cold cabbage for breakfast is a truly vile thing!" He said, with the ghost of a grin. He quickly finished his pasty.

"So now I know what I'm being given for breakfast?" Her tone sarcastic again.

"You can have anything I have with me for breakfast, Highness, if you'll only eat it. Foolishly, perhaps, I was simply trying to make conversation. It was a bad choice of topic, that's all. How terribly inept of me!" He rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. "Forget it. I'll erect your tent and you can get away from my offensive presence."

It took him about ten minutes and, despite herself, as she watched him warily, Ovelia found herself surreptitiously breaking off a tiny piece of her pasty and eating it, while he wasn't looking. It was good. However, she ate no more of it, as she really didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her eat anything he had provided. When he was close to finished, her stomach let out an embarrassingly audible growl. He glanced over and, for the second time, she saw a smile play on his lips, for just a fleeting moment.

"If you'll eat something, I can still _pretend_ you didn't, if that would make you feel better." He said.

Now who was being sarcastic? She glared at him for a moment, then sighed and broke the pasty in two and nibbled at one half, continuing to throw stormy looks his way. She watched him place a bedroll and blankets inside the tent, then place another bedroll outside, though within a foot of the entrance flap.

"If you try to sneak away in the night, you'll have me sleeping in there, right next to you. If you're compliant, you may have your privacy."

"You're _so_ kind." She said, getting up and and stalking to the tent. As she stooped and entered, she saw him give a sketchy bow and then let down the entrance flap of the tent. She had been watching carefully and already knew that the tent flap fastened in several places, but only from the outside. Right now, running would be futile anyway - she had no idea what beasts lurked in these woods and, for all she knew, he might have accomplices close at hand.

* * *

Author's Note:

I hate the idea of a vapid, weak-minded Princess Ovelia, which I have seen done more than once. She's young and, because of a sheltered upbringing, she's terribly naïve, but she isn't stupid and she's not entirely without spirit. Instead, I like the notion that, for now, she'll give Delita a run for his money.

Agrias, on the other hand, is right-royally pissed off; she's in overall charge of Ovelia's safety and security and she's just lost all control of the situation. She has failed in her duty; she's career military and so is her father, so she's been brought up with the idea that duty is paramount. She will undoubtedly continue to be less than pleasant to Ramza and Ladd until they prove themselves – she has no reason to like or trust them, after all.

[Just to be clear, Ramza's soup is _**not**_ _**remotely**_ like STEW (if you don't know what I'm waffling on about then try to lay hands on a copy of Diana Wynne Jones' "Tough Guide to Fantasyland", which is a hilarious satirical "guide book" of fantasy tropes for anyone who has read at least a couple of fantasy books. It would make a great stocking-filler for any fantasy fans.)]


	2. 2 - Assassin?

For some reason these are a lot longer than my previous vignettes were (the first two, anyway, I think the next one'll be shorter). It's probably got something to do with them starting out at about the same length, but then, me adding the Delita/Ovelia parts at a later date.

* * *

**Vignette 2 – Assassin?**

_The Boar's Head Inn, Dorter, Early Evening._

After such a hasty departure from Orbonne, they'd known that they would need to replenish supplies in Dorter but had intended to do that quickly and move straight on, chasing Delita and the Princess. However, they'd been set upon by a band of local cut-throats almost as soon as they'd entered the city gates. After only a token protest, even Lady Agrias had reluctantly agreed to staying in Dorter at an inn, rather than pressing on for what, after all, would only be an hour or so of daylight. She admitted that having a healthy squad was at least as important as having one only very slightly closer to their goal.

After fully healing each other, everyone had taken advantage of the facilities and had bathed, easing their battle-induced aches. The three women had taken their time over their baths and had then sat close to the fire in their room, for a time, to dry their hair somewhat. The men, on the other hand, had rushed their baths and had gone down quickly to the common room to eat.

Almost an hour after their own entrance, Ramza watched the women come into the room. Ladd was at the bar replenishing their drinks and Gaffgarion was at his own table in the corner, cuddling with a likely lass. Ramza sighed; the only time his commander ever looked like less of the miserable old arsehole he was, was when he was wenching. Could he really continue working for this crass, repellent man?

To his amazement, the three women approached his table. Then he realised he shouldn't be surprised - three attractive young ladies alone in an inn, even one with a good reputation, like the Boar's Head, were little better than prey to the wrong kind of man... at that thought, his eyes flickered briefly, again, to his employer. The ladies had their swords, of course, but already having male company would just make things easier for them. He sprang to his feet and gave a small bow, as they approached - a courtesy that had been instilled so deeply, it was as natural as breathing to him. Alicia and Lavian glanced at each other, then smiled prettily at him, but the Lady Agrias just glowered balefully.

He courteously helped the two younger women to their seats but was able to imagine just what reception this would have had, had he tried it on their captain. He turned and caught Ladd's eye as the other man left the bar, and he gestured at the women. Ladd turned back to the bar and ordered more drinks.

Ladd came back with a tray with glasses and pitchers of beer, cider and wine and a separate mug for Ramza and they sat around talking about trivialities, while the women waited for their food. Ramza found Lady Agrias watching him speculatively, more than once, as she ate. On the fourth time he found her doing so, she suddenly said:

"So, a dual caster?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Er... yes, well... you saw that today. My mother was a Master white mage, but she could also use time magicks; she served as a support mage, in the war. I think I just inherited some of her abilities, only, I've a better grasp of black than time magick, so I tend to use it more." He gave her a tentative half-smile - it wasn't returned.

"But that wasn't white magick you were using to heal Alicia and I when we got back to the inn this afternoon. I'm fairly sure that was a Chakra." There was accusation in her voice. He looked at her, nonplussed; so did everyone else.

"My Lady, I don't understand the problem. A Chakra doesn't use up magical potential, in fact it restores it, and it doesn't cost money, so I tend to use them for most healing, off the battle-field." He tried an uneasy smile, again, but her face stayed like granite.

"So... what other skills do you have?" Her voice was pretty stony too.

"Monk-wise, it's pretty much just Chakra... oh and I'm trying to learn Revive, which should please the grumpy old badger." He nodded in Gaffgarion's direction.

It was a rather good description for the man, Agrias thought, with his salt-and-pepper streaked hair, albeit it was somewhat too polite for such a man.

"He hates spending money and 'Phoenix Downs aren't ten-a-gil'." Ramza pushed his mop of hair out of his face as he mimicked the harsh voice of his employer, watching her warily, trying to see if he had given her an adequate answer. Apparently not.

"And what else have you trained in?"

"Physically, I have squire's skills, obviously, but I also know some knight's abilities, archery, those martial arts... and a little thievery." His voice was hesitant - he suspected that she wouldn't approve of that last. "Magically, I'm a little more limited - aside from some chemistry, it's mostly white and black magick, though I have a small amount of skill in the mystic arts too."

Agrias looked at the boy, trying to assess his honesty. Then she shrugged and asked the question that had been lurking in the back of her mind since she first saw him cast Thundara that afternoon.

"So... let's just imagine you had been sent to assassinate someone... you've a wide range of skills for it." Agrias said, quietly. Everyone at the table froze. Ramza just sat with his mouth hanging open.

"Who... who am I supposed to want to assassinate?" He asked, eventually, his voice wary and pitched a little high.

Agrias didn't know whether to feel reassured or applaud his acting skills, given that reaction.

"Oh, I don't know... the Princess?" She said. Ramza's jaw nearly hit his chest this time.

"Close your mouth, boy; you'll catch flies." Came Gaffgarion's slightly slurred voice from just behind her. "I'm off to bed," He had come up to their table, each arm around a girl's waist. Each was easily young enough to be his daughter, if not his granddaughter. Agrias just looked away.

"I'd offer to share, but you seem to have enough wenches yourselves. Are all three yours, Ladd? I mean, Ramza's a _useless_ bastard. It's not as if he'd know what to do with them, luscious though they are." Agrias bristled, but Ramza had jumped to his feet before she could retort.

"Sir, that is _enough!_ You've had too much to drink and you need to apologise to the ladies." That surprised Agrias, and she could see that emotion reflected on he faces of the other two Lionsguards. Ramza had also been insulted, and it was the sort of insult - a slur on his masculinity - that most men resented sorely, yet it was only them he was defending. An odd boy, this one.

Gaffgarion only laughed and made his unsteady way to the door with his girls. Ramza sat back down and put his head in his hands. Ladd glanced worriedly at his friend then, inexplicably, moved the three pitchers of alcohol to the far end of the table.

"My gods, I hope he's paying them well... although nothing could _ever_ be enough!" Lavian said quietly with a shudder, a look of supreme distaste on her face.

"Oh _yes_! It's the one thing he's always happy to put his hand in his pocket for." Ladd spoke into his beer mug, sounding bitter, then downed the remainder of its contents. Ramza's head shot up from his hands, addressing the other man, though it was loud enough for the women to hear, too.

"I can't do this any more! This is my last job for him! If I wanted to work for an unprincipled, dishonourable wretch I'd have just gone _home_! And what _you_ said..." he turned to Agrias "Just _so_ wrong! Mad! I don't know how anyone could say something so _stupid_..." He jumped up from his seat so fast that it fell. He righted it and, even in his distress, made a brief bow to the ladies.

"I'm going for a walk, and I apologise, Lady Agrias, that wasn't at all polite of me." He muttered, then left. Agrias watched him go, thinking hard.

"Is he always this... volatile?" She asked Ladd eventually. He gaped at her.

"Volatile? My lady, what do you expect? He's just found out that his best friend, who he thought had gone to the grave over a year ago, blaming him - without the least cause - for the death of his sister, is actually alive. On top of that, Delita has defected to the Southern Sky and kidnapped the Princess. Then _you_ accuse him of being an assassin. I assume you think he's actually working with Delita? An _assassin_? _Ramza_? Don't make me laugh. That laddie's more straight-laced and honourable than any man I've ever met. Plus, he's meek as a lamb off the battlefield.

"And I mean it about honourable, by the way; it's only been two months, but working for a bastard like Gaffgarion's eating him up inside. And, you know, _I'm_ not exactly proud of what I do for a living, either, but we each have to get the money to put food in our mouths and clothes on our backs, somehow." Ladd got to his feet as well.

"I'd better go and check on him." He muttered and left the room.

Agrias could see looks of accusation directed at her by her two subordinates. This time, all three women turned and watched Ladd go.

"One of us should follow them, try to find out what they are up to." Agrias said quietly. She saw the other two look at each other and, without even trying to disguise it, Alicia rolled her eyes at Lavian.

"Fine! I will. You two had better not stay in here drinking by yourselves, though." She snapped, then slipped out of the common room and headed out of the inn, realising that she had no way of knowing how to find the two men if they had strayed far.

She didn't have to try, there was a bench at the far side of the inn's coach-yard and there were Ramza and Ladd. Ramza sat at one end of the bench with his head in his hands again and Ladd was sitting with one foot resting on the other knee, head back, looking up at the stars. She laced her dark blue jacket right up to the neck so that none of her white shirt would show, slipped into the shadows and moved carefully closer.

"No!" Ramza was saying. "Just no! I'll happily follow _you_ if you think we can make it on our own, but I'm never going to be the one in charge, again!"

"I heard your old squad were totally loyal to you, so why not at least try to get in touch with them, see if we could set ourselves up as an elite mercenary unit. I'm good, but you're better, and I heard they were all approaching your level of skill. Come on, laddie, we could _do_ this, but it has to be _you_ who leads. I'm best at just being the muscle; we both know that. You must want to see your old team again, surely! Go _on_." This wasn't quite what she had hoped to hear about, Agrias thought, though it was interesting that Ramza had led a team before now. Mercenaries... or assassins perhaps? Perhaps he was older than he looked and admitted to. Ramza raised his head, his face bleak.

"Oh for heaven's... Fine! One of them's from Dorter - she's probably back with her family. I tell you what, we'll go there now, tonight. If I'm very lucky, she'll only call me a treacherous bastard, beat me up and throw me out on my ear. Once she does that, will you drop this ludicrous idea?"

Agrias tailed them down the street, heading to the merchants' quarter. The further they went, the more luxurious the houses became – if the house they wanted was around here, perhaps these two hadn't been lying about their backgrounds as old Akademicians. If they were what they said they were, then she was wasting her night following around a pair of "perpetual squires". Damn it all to hell!

"Look, Ramza." She heard Ladd say suddenly. "Lavian said, as we walked together this morning, that she's never seen Lady Agrias so worried and she's known her for _years_. I don't think she'd have said what she did, if she was in her right senses."

_Right senses?_ Huh!... Oh well, her nurse had always warned her, when she was a little girl, that evesdroppers never heard any good of themselves. She looked around - this was definitely the most opulent part of town. So, all right, it was looking more and more as if the two young men were telling the truth about their backgrounds. That didn't have to mean that one or both of them wasn't a damned assassin!

"You know, she doesn't seem like a bad person, she's just... intense and... well... really _really_ upset, like I said. I told her straight, that you were no assassin." Ladd went on.

"And I'm sure that made it all better." Ramza replied, drily.

"Well, no, but it can't have hurt, after all." Ladd said, looking uncomfortable.

"You're right and thanks." Ramza said, stopping to grip the other's shoulder briefly. Agrias knew, for most men, that was practically a hug. Hell, for _her_ that was closer to a hug than she'd had in a while.

"And Delita... we'll catch up with him and we can find out what the hell is going on there too, you can be sure of it." Ladd's tone was hesitant.

"Okay, okay, just _stop_ trying to cheer me up. I might have to confront Hildegarde any minute and I need some time to prepare myself; the girl has a _temper_. I was serious when I said I expect to get beaten to a bloody pulp. Tell me you have a couple of Hi-Potions somewhere on you." Ladd felt in his pockets.

"Three, no, wait a minute, only one, the others are an ordinary Potion and Eye Drops."

"Can't be a bad thing, since she may try to scratch my eyes out." Ramza sighed, but then gave a lop-sided grin.

"Supposing she doesn't really try to maim or kill me, it will be good to see her. Always difficult to predict with Hildy, though." Ramza said thoughtfully, as they turned into the driveway of an enormous, imposing house. He looked up at the grand town-house, set in compact but immaculate grounds, then down at himself, slightly troubled.

"I suppose I have to be glad we had time for a bath, but I should have thought about our clothes... Maybe we should go round to the servants' entrance."

"For the gods' sake, man, remember who you _really_ are and march up to the front door. Think back to being the arrogant young scion of a great house and just do it!" Agrias frowned at that and scrutinised what she could see of Ramza – _was_ there something familiar about the boy? She was of sufficiently high rank, herself, that she knew members of most of the "great houses" in western and central Ivalice.

"Yes, yes." Ramza muttered and walked up to the door, pulling his shoulders back and lifting his chin.

Agrias realised, for the first time, that he must be a few inches taller than her - his usual slumped posture and defeated attitude had misled her into thinking he was a small man whereas he was actually of about average height. Squaring his shoulders had also drawn attention to them. He was broad enough, that the boy might actually be considered quite muscular, which tied in with the claims he had made about his wide ranging physical skills earlier in the evening.

A butler answered - fine clothes, arrogant face. What she could see of Ramza's face didn't just match the arrogance, it outdid it.

"I'd like to speak to Miss Hildegarde, please, I'm an old school-fellow of hers." He said in an authoritative tone his accent just a fraction more elevated than usual. The butler looked him up and down, clearly taking it all in.

"I don't think she's at home... sir." Which could easily be translated by all of them as "whether she's in or not, I doubt she would want to receive the likes of you!"

"Well..." The pause was fractional. "In that case, may I leave my card?" _Card?_ Yes, because sellswords carried calling cards like gentlemen... or scions of a great house. Hmm... She watched Ramza pull out a handsome pocket book and a pencil. From the shadows, she tried to crane to see the embossed initials, but his thumb partially obscured it and she could only make out most of an "R" - which was useless. He scrawled a few words on the back of the card and sent it in.

The men strolled slowly, as they made their way back to the inn. Agrias found the slow pace aggravating, at least until Ladd asked one of the questions she wanted answers for.

"So you have _calling cards_ that say "Ramza Lugria, mercenary" on them?"

"Don't be daft! It was one of my last old ones. Hildy doesn't know me as Lugria, after all." Was all the answer Ramza gave. Ladd just shrugged and grunted and that was that. Agrias had to stop herself from grinding her teeth in frustration – though they weren't all the same ones, this excursion had left her with just as many unanswered questions as ever.

* * *

_Araguay Woods, 23 miles East of Dorter, late evening_

Ovelia and her captor had spent the day in stony silence, except for when the chocobo that she had been riding, while he led it, had stumbled and thrown her, late morning. The poor beast had squawked pitifully but she, essentially unhurt, had scrambled to her feet.

Seeing her rise and begin to brush her dress down, which he seemed to take as a sign that she was uninjured, her kidnapper had turned to the chocobo, which was still bawling out raucous squawks. She heard him swear quietly but virulently, suddenly showing a strong accent that she thought was from western Gallione. He had knelt by the bird, running a hand gently over its lower leg. The poor beast squawked louder and made as if to peck him as his hand reached its ankle. He cursed again.

She heard him mutter the word "broken".

He went round to its head and spoke low and soothingly while he stroked its poll, then he got up, stepped back and, looking away from the poor animal, which was still writhing in pain, called down what she recognised as a Cleansing Strike, to put it out of its misery. She'd had no idea that her kidnapper was a Holy Knight, like Agrias.

"Come, your Highness. I'm afraid you'll have to walk now. Will you take my arm?" He'd said, as he shouldered the packs, after dumping the chocobo fodder to lighten them a little.

She'd refused, though later in the afternoon, she'd been forced to accept that help and more, as her unsuitable footwear and clothing impeded their progress.

Sitting by the fire, exhausted, she didn't argue about eating her rations that night. He seemed very quiet this evening, there were no sarcastic comments and no attempts at conversation. After most of a day without speaking Ovelia, tired though she was, felt like shrieking, just to fill the silence.

"Do you have a name, sir?" She found herself asking.

"Delita... Delita Heiral" His voice practically screamed his own weariness.

"_Ser_ Delita?" She was curious to know whether the knight's garb was a disguise or if he was entitled to wear it.

"Yes, your Highness." Of course, there was no guarantee he was not lying. Then again, being able to access the power of Holy Sword techniques practically guaranteed that someone would have been prepared to knight him.

"And you are part of the Order of the _Southern_ Sky?"

"Mmm." He gestured at his cloak and shield, both of which bore the Order's symbols. He _really_ wasn't interested in talking to her, this evening, was he?

"Yet you have the slight hint of a Gallione accent, if I don't mistake."

"Yes, my lady."

"That's somewhat unusual, for a lackey of Goltanna's." Her voice was questioning and slightly contemptuous.

"Indeed, Highness." _His_ tone said he'd brook no further probing on that point.

"So..." She cast around for something else to ask him about. She could just say "tell me about yourself" but she doubted it would elicit much response. Yet she did want... _needed_ to know more about him. If she could find a chink in his metaphorical armour she might gain a better understanding of what the hell was happening and why.

"So you grew up in Gallione with your parents and grandmother, you mentioned. Any brothers or sisters?"

"A baby brother who died when he was little more than an infant and a sister, fourteen months my junior. She's also dead now, though." His tone was carefully empty of emotion and he didn't look at her.

She studied him, suddenly realising that he was probably barely older than she was. So she'd been kidnapped by a youth of, at most, eighteen. It was the danger of her situation that had allowed her to overlook that fact before now. Could she use this to her advantage? She'd been told she was pretty, if only she knew a bit more about men, perhaps she could have flirted, won him over, gained his trust. Instead she'd just have to carry on her inept interrogation.

"Your grandmother sounds as if she was a very thrifty woman, Ser Delita?" He stiffened and looked confused for a moment, then he too must have remembered what he had said the night before, because he visibly relaxed.

"That isn't unusual in a farm-wife, my lady." He said.

"Farm-wife? I thought you said you were a knight." Her voice was sceptical.

"I have been knighted – I _am_ a Holy Knight, after all – but I'm a commoner... by birth." He was good at keeping his voice calm and neutral-sounding, she noted.

"That's also unusual – a commoner becoming a Knight."

"I'm not complaining, Highness, but to what do your inquiries appertain?"

_Appertain_? There were odd contradictions here. He was remarkably well-educated and well-spoken, if his claims about his birth were true. If she'd been forced to guess, she'd have imagined he was, perhaps, the younger son of a highly-placed nobleman.

"You've kidnapped me, I'm merely trying to understand you, understand why you'd do that." She said, trying to keep as calmly serene as a princess should.

"Then simply ask me questions about _that_. I'm happy to answer what I'm able." He yawned, then apologised from behind the hand still covering his mouth, but he had already set her off doing the same.

"You said yesterday that you had saved my life. Would you care to explain that _extraordinary_ assertion." Her voice had lost all claim to serenity – she thought that "cold and waspish" might be a better description of her tone.

"You said you didn't believe me, Princess." He yawned again. Again, she responded to that in kind.

"I don't." She said, hand still over her mouth. He gave her a long, considering look.

"You know," he said slowly, "I'm very tired, so are you and it's a very, _very_ long story. I'll tell you as we walk tomorrow. Right now, I think we both should get to bed."

* * *

Author's Note:

The butler at Hildy's house has only been in the family's service for about six month, hence Ramza not being recognised. He stayed there for a couple of nights, only a year-and-a-bit ago, after all, so if it had been the same butler, then as the leader of the squad and the highest-born member of the group, Ramza probably ought to have been recognised. That bit was written from an Agrias PoV, though, so she couldn't know all that.

There's no question that Agrias is paranoid, but I don't think that's a bad trait in a bodyguard, so, as I suggested before, I don't think she's particularly wrong to be extremely suspicious of Ramza (and Ladd, to a lesser extent).

The Chocobo that Delita puts out of its misery is one that was given to him by Lord Barbaneth, shortly before the old Lord's death. He went and "retrieved" it from the Eagrose Mansion stables, in the dead of night, about a week after Ziekden Fortress (he also went into the house and took the picture of his parents he kept on his bedside). He likes the birds in general and was very fond of this one, in particular. That's the reason he's prepared to completely ignore Ovelia in favour of the bird, it's also, partly, why he's so morose that evening.

(I have my reasons for sticking to an Ovelia or Agrias PoV, on these parts, but it does have its drawbacks when it comes to exposition! I decided I should probably stop continually switching between perspectives, but I wonder if I may have to rethink that, as I think, for a "snapshot" vignette like this, that may be the only way to give adequate explanations of what's going on.)


	3. 3 - A Little Respect is Still Too Much

I get a bit mired in the politics of the game as Ovelia and Delita are talking in the second half of this. If it's been some time since you played, you need to remember that Queen Louveria (now Queen Mother) is Duke Larg's sister, that Prince/King Orinus probably isn't the old King's biological son, and that she (with plenty of help from her brother) is acting as her son's Regent (undoubtedly with the able help of Dycedarg Beoulve as their spin-doctor extraordinaire). You also need to recall that, after the death of two previous princes (possibly assassinated and also rumoured not to be the King's sons), the King and Queen adopted Ovelia (who was the King's half-sister) in a bid to secure the succession... Then Orinus was born and everything got even more complicated.

(I just managed to make FFT sound like something that could have been written by George R R Martin... without the incest... probably... though that _could_ be one explanation of who Orinus' real father is... ew!)

* * *

**Vignette 3 – When Only a Little Respect is Still Too Much**

_Western Araguay Woods, late evening_

"You know, you damned Holy Knights are so bleeding sanctimonious. Would it have _hurt_ to bring a decent amount of money with you? It's your sodding rescue mission, so _I_ wasn't going to fork out for a pack animal. I assumed that after that young bastard poisoned all the chocobos at Orbonne, that we'd, at least, get a bird to carry our stuff, in Dorter, even if you didn't get us each one to ride.

"Hell, given who you are, you must have enough money to have bought half the bloody chocobos in town." Gaffgarion's voice had its usual harsh, almost metallic edge when he had got into his stride, doling out verbal abuse.

She turned away, not prepared to even acknowledge the vile man. As she did so, she saw a brief glance pass between Ladd and Ramza, concerned looks on both of their faces. Ramza opened his mouth – surely not to defend her? She knew she didn't deserve such consideration from him.

"Sir, please, it isn't Lady Agrias' fault that Delita knows a lot about the birds. He was always hanging around the stables when we were growing up. If anyone knew what to give them to make them too weak to be ridden, he would. And we were rather rushed leaving the abbey, if you recall. If Lady Agrias forgot some things, she can't be blamed..." Ramza was cut off.

"And you can _shut up!_ "Lady Agrias... my Lady this, her Ladyship that". I am so sick of this crap you keep giving me about showing respect for those three stupid bints! What the _hell_ use are they going to be, anyway? _Her Esteemed Ladyship,_ there, didn't even have enough sense to leave a single guard with the Princess; if she had, this may never have happened!"

Ramza saw Agrias take a stumbling step backwards from the raucous Fell Knight. She had turned back around to face Gaffgarion at the words "those three stupid bints" and, until that last sentence, had appeared to be squaring up to confront the abusive man.

"Sir, you must be tired from walking in full plate armour all day. Why don't you just sit down, by the fire, and have a drink. The inn had some decent wine and I bought you a few skins – they're in that pack." Ramza said placatingly, pointing at one of his own bags which was, conveniently, on the far side of the fire-pit.

"Your damned fire went out. You're a worthless piece of... oh." The fire had already sprung back to roaring life, Ramza having already raised a hand and muttered an incantation at Gaffgarion's first words.

"You're still a useless bastard." Gaffgarion said, almost sulkily, and went to drink and warm himself. Ladd gave the women an apologetic grimace and wandered over to his boss with a pack of cards - apparently to try do what he could to appease and occupy the man.

Agrias had gone very white when Gaffgarion had said exactly what she had been chiding herself with since Orbonne – _Her Esteemed Ladyship didn't even have enough sense to leave a single guard... _Despite the warmth of the night, she gave a convulsive shiver. She went to sit by the fire, staring into it disconsolately, uncaring that she was facing Gaffgarion across the flames.

"Please don't pay him any mind; he isn't worth it." Ramza muttered in an undertone as he neared her, though, ostensibly, he was just gathering up their cooking things.

"I take it you were brought up to show the utmost respect to your elders, as well as women." She replied in a sardonic undertone.

"Yes." He replied, sounding thoughtful, and throwing a brief glance at Gaffgarion. He sighed. "Just as well, really, isn't it?"

* * *

_Nineteen miles further East through the woods_

Ovelia sat, chewing her lip, staring at nothing. She'd been like that for at least twenty minutes, when she finally spoke.

"So this taradiddle you told me, this morning..." He rudely cut her off, clearly very annoyed.

"_Taradiddle_? I've told you no lies. I even went so far as to explain the intricacies of the overarching political situation in Ivalice of which you are so _woefully_ ignorant... Highness." His tone was scornful.

"How could I be anything else, cloistered as I have been? And please do _not_ tack "Highness" onto the end of a sentence to try to make something insulting sound a little more respectful." She went back to chewing her lip, then said in a musing tone.

"The Queen is my adoptive mother now. I admit that she has been somewhat distant, but she has never been unkind to me. Why should I believe that she and her brother want me dead? Orinus is considered King now, young as he is and, as yet, uncrowned. I _can't_ be a threat to that. That's what primogeniture and the royal succession _mean_." She refused to look at him.

"You know why, my lady, I explained _all_ of this." His voice was weary and exasperated.

"Orinus isn't Ondoria's son, you say. All right, I can believe as much, I admit. My half-brother – no _father_, I was told always to say, after the adoption – was always rather weak and sickly. But who is to _prove_ it? He always acknowledged Orinus as his own son. The boy is now King, his mother Regent, with her brother to help. What need would there be to _kill_ me? Besides, Orinus has a lot of years before he'll be old enough to start having sons of his own. If anything were to happen to him, and if I'm dead too, there's no obvious heir. Because of the adoption the 'Queen Mother' still retains that title whether Orinus or I sit on the throne. This doesn't make sense!" She sat, still staring at the hands she was twisting together in her lap.

"As I _told_ you, the current arrangement is very unstable. If enough people believe Orinus isn't your 'father's' son, then he'll be deposed. If they could gain control of you then, yes, the Largs could retain the regency, even were Orinus to die, but you're past seventeen, they wouldn't have that power for long. At least officially. But as I say, he's far more likely to be deposed than die, which leaves their position a lot more shaky.

"Ignoring that, the Larg family, the Queen included, seem to be of the belief that all questions about the boy's birth will be silenced if there is no alternative to Orinus. Which is such rubbish! At best, your death will win a few months more of doubtful peace, while the factions, Goltanna's particularly, scramble to realign themselves and hatch new plots." He frowned and his voice became lower, almost as if he was talking to himself. "Even if Larg's stupid enough to think it would do more, Dycedarg is far too wily not to realise..." He shook his head as if to clear it.

"Princess, Larg and Beoulve are prepared to plot your death to gain themselves a few weeks of breathing space - they really can't hope for more. There'll still be a war. You think this is a taradiddle? They are ruthless unprincipled men. They'd do it simply to foil Duke Goltanna's plans. Goltanna would happily do the same to them, admittedly." His voice had taken on a slightly harsh edge; he seemed annoyed, but she wasn't sure with whom or what – somehow it didn't seem directed at her.

"But you'll hand me over to the man who, you now claim, is every bit as bad as the one, you say, wants me dead. This is the part that, particularly, makes me doubt your word, Ser Delita. You _seem_ to profoundly disapprove of what _both_ Orders are plotting, yet you are happy to take one side and hand over a pawn as valuable as, you say, I am. Something about this is very wrong and, right now, I'm inclined to think that that something is _you_. I'm going to bed!" As she pulled down the tent flap she glimpsed him watching her intently, an extremely troubled look on his face – almost... haunted.

* * *

Author's Note:

If you've read all of my vignettes, you've probably realised by now that I like to try and make things seem semi-logical. (If I can't, I don't try to give any explanation – i.e. what's the logical explanation for being unable to resurrect Tietra? No idea! So that got glossed over). So if you wanted to catch a man on a chocobo, you wouldn't set out on foot, unless you had to. So Delita poisoned the chocobos at Orbonne, making them too ill to be ridden. This isn't me trying to portray Delita in a more positive light than killing the birds would have. Delita's a pragmatist, don't forget - if there was an advantage to him in having a stable full of dead chocobos, he would have killed them, but there isn't. Besides, I've already established that he likes chocos, so he just does what he needs to make them unable to be ridden for a couple of days. Also for logic's sake, Agrias isn't carrying enough money to be able to afford to expend any unnecessarily, hence not buying even a single bird in Dorter.

Some of what Ovelia asks are my own questions about some of the game's more convoluted politics. I actually have some big doubts about whether to really makes sense for Louveria and Larg to be wanting to kill Ovelia at this point.

(NB Long section of speculative political waffle coming up - feel free to stop reading right now!)

You needed at least two children (two boys for the nobility – the "heir and the spare") to secure the succession to a throne or a title. I'm not 100% convinced that the Queen and Duke Larg should want Ovelia dead until they can arrange a marriage between Orinus and some suitable girl the moment he's old enough – you'd only do away with the Princess once Orinus' wife was pregnant with their first (or, better yet, second) child, in that case.

Up until that point, it makes more sense to keep Ovelia locked away in a nunnery, as they have been doing. If the nunnery seems to leave her too vulnerable to being kidnapped by rival factions and to then be used to bring the little King down (as it clearly does), then bring her to Court, declare her "delicate" and keep her locked up. Goltanna clearly seems to believe that he can keep full control of her, even after she's of age, so why wouldn't the Larg family be able to do the same?

My personal pet-theory is that the King and Queen should probably not have adopted Ovelia at all; if the Largs wanted to be sure of control, but should have had her marry the Duke. I don't know if he's already supposed to be married, but Dycedarg already has experience at ridding himself of unwanted family members, I'm sure he could be prevailed upon to help out, if there's an inconvenient wife. In reality, even after she's been adopted, if the church of Glabados is as much like the medieval Catholic Church as it seems, it could easily give a dispensation for them to marry.

Ignoring my pet-theory, if Orinus gets deposed/dies, Ovelia's the only real choice for Queen, so they should want to have control of her but keep her safe, shouldn't they? Yes, if he's deposed, the Queen will be vilified, but Duke Larg could probably declare how shocked and disgusted he is at what his sister has tried to do and still retain control of Ovelia while "exiling" his sister and nephew to somewhere comfortable and luxurious.

As I see it, the Queen's faction have to be a bit stupid or terribly arrogant to believe that they are better off with Ovelia dead than with Ovelia under their thumb... and I'm going to stop this now as I've clearly spent _way_ too much time thinking about this.

You can probably see why the arrival of Mustadio, heralding the transition of the plot into one about bloody magic rocks, is always something of a disappointment for me when playing this (though I do like Mustadio as a character). As far as I'm concerned, it would have been far more interesting to find a way to base the entire plot, not just the fist bit, on the politics... but never mind.

OK, shutting up, right now!


	4. 4 - Bastards, Useless or Otherwise

This'll be the last one with Gaffgarion, as well as the last one with Delita and Ovelia together, for a while:

* * *

**Vignette 4 – Bastards, Useless or Otherwise**

"You know, I'm not convinced that that's just a wild chocobo, after all - I'm sure I've seen it somewhere before." Ramza said to Alicia, who smiled back at him questioningly.

"WARK!" The raucous cry came from near the mercenary leader.

"Get this vicious bugger away from me!" Gaffgarion's mood was not noticeably better than the night before, even though they now had the pack animal he'd wanted.

"Sir, if you'll just refrain from shouting so loudly near him, he'll probably calm down." Ramza called from where he was working on their travel rations with Alicia, near the fire. Ladd finally managed to haul the thoroughly ruffled chocobo away from Gaffgarion and settled him down on the far side of their camp, though only after Gaffgarion had told Ramza to "shut up, you useless bastard."

"If he doesn't let up, there'll be no wine left by tomorrow night and then he'll _really_ be in a bad mood." Ramza said almost under his breath.

"This isn't a _really_ bad mood?" Alicia asked, incredulous.

"No, this is just a _fairly_ bad mood - same as last night – and, believe me, you don't want to see a really bad one! Unfortunately, you probably will - I don't think we can make it to civilisation before tomorrow night. Don't worry, I'll be the one who gets the brunt of it for not getting enough wine."

"Why would you remain in that man's employ, even for as short a time as you have?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Believe me, I've frequently asked myself the same thing." He said with a grimace.

He knew the answer, of course. Partly it was easier and... simply _better_ to have someone else giving the orders; he never wanted to be responsible for the lives of others again. Partly, Ramza believed that he really deserved this treatment – oh, not from Gaffgarion - but, more generally, he felt that this sort of abuse was about all he merited. He'd allowed Tietra and Delita to die... no, no, he'd allowed Tietra to die, then he'd walked away, convinced Delita was dead, without even trying to find out if he really was. He wished he knew how Delita had survived and got out from under the rubble that should have killed him.

The blame for Juliana's death, and the others' expulsion from the Akademy, he also felt rested entirely on his head – he'd persuaded them to come along with him and Delita in the abortive attempt to rescue Tietra. He'd not only got Juliana killed, which he always tried hard not to think about, but he'd blighted the hopes and dreams of the others. Ophellia, for instance, had once confided her ambition to become the first ever female Colonel in the Order, and even if she had never achieved that, he remembered the girls discussing the possibility of joining the Lionsguards, more than once. All of that hope, all of their plans had been killed on the same day as Tietra and Juliana.

Alicia watched the haunted look in the boy's eyes and wondered why, if it was so bad staying with Gaffgarion, Ramza didn't just walk away... or perhaps there was more to this. She laid a sympathetic hand on his, and he looked at it for a long moment, then looked up at her, with a smile that didn't quite touch his eyes.

* * *

Gaffgarion had gone to bed with the last wineskin, or so they thought, until Ladd produced one from his pack with a wink and a conspiratorial grin. He made as if to open it. Ramza practically tackled him to the ground to take it from him.

"Don't you dare! That skin could save me at least two "useless bastards" tomorrow night. Sorry ladies." Ramza covered his mouth with his hand and looked guilty, remembering his language a little too late. Alicia laughed.

"Well it's not as if we haven't heard it, continually, from your master over the last few days." she said. Ramza, particularly, looked affronted at the word 'master', though Ladd continued to seem unsettled by it too as Alicia went on.

"Why is that one such a favourite for you, anyway? He uses a much greater variety of insults for everyone else." Ramza blushed slightly as he poured water for himself from a canteen into a leather tankard, before he answered.

"I'm never quite sure which of my many failings has led to it being coupled with "useless" so often, but _always_ being called "bastard" is mostly my fault." He saw Agrias' raised eyebrow and blushed more. He wished fervently that he'd not admitted to that, but now he'd started he felt he had no option but to tell the truth.

"Very early in our... association... Gaffgarion was in one of his fouler moods and he called me that a couple of times. So I decided to try to be clever about it. I told him that while I'd always hated the term, I could hardly challenge it, since it wasn't, in fact, entirely inaccurate. Stupidly, I thought it might shut him up. The mistake, of course, was to tell him I hated it. I've been "useless bastard" or sometimes "stupid bastard" or occasionally "naive little bastard", ever since." He gave a deep sigh.

"Nobleman's son, born on the wrong side of the blanket?" Lavian asked quietly. Ramza shut his eyes as he nodded. _It isn't a lie_, he told himself, _it is a shade sophistical, but it isn't untrue... not about my __**birth**_, _anyway_.

"Hmm. 'Born on the wrong side of the blanket' - I haven't heard that one in a while. Yes, that is one of the politest ways of putting it, certainly." He shifted restlessly, as he spoke. It was the truth, just not the entire truth, he told himself again.

"But still a nobleman's son and, I presume, brought up like it, which explains some things." Lavian said.

"So's Ladd, and he's indisputably legitimate." Ramza pointed out.

"Yeah, but the fourth son of a Baron and we're _seriously_ unimportant, unlike some people." Ladd put in lazily. Agrias thought she saw a quick movement out of the corner of her eye. Ramza kicking Ladd?

"Some people?" Agrias asked quickly – perhaps one of the pair might just come out and say what she had been dying to ask about for two days. Probably not, especially after that kick.

"Er, well, yeah. I mean, you _are_ one of the Lesalia Oakses, aren't you? And though not quite up there with yours, even Lady Alicia's family is still pretty lofty compared to mine."

"_My_ father's a merchant." Lavian said quietly.

"Yeah, but he's not exactly grubbing around trading in low-grade agricultural produce, is he? Finest silks, exotic perfume, foreign spices, that sort of thing. Besides, your husband was from a noble family, wasn't he?"

Lavian's eyebrows shot up. Even though she had talked and even flirted with Ladd, she was certain that she'd never mentioned that she had been widowed only a couple of weeks before the armistice was signed. Since she was only twenty-one, most people assumed she was still an unmarried girl, especially as her wedding ring was on a chain around her neck under her clothes, not on her finger. It wasn't that she didn't want to acknowledge her marriage to Ivan, but the ring always caught on her gauntlets, so she always left it off when she was on duty, or if she might need to fight; she hadn't worn it since they'd met Ladd and Ramza.

"What did you do - research all of our families before coming to Orbonne?" She asked suspiciously. Ramza was the one who shook his head, glancing at his friend with a grin.

"Ladd likes to play the brainless muscle, but he actually has one heck of a memory for all sorts of inconsequential detail about... well... practically everything, but people mostly. Though, basically, he's just nosy and he likes to gossip." Ignoring Ladd's indignant looks, he lay back on the ground, his hands linked behind his head. Suddenly he sat up again.

"I know where I've seen that chocobo before!" He said. "His name's Boco, and he used to belong to Wiegraf Folles... I hope this doesn't mean Wiegraf's dead." Ramza had always felt that with a just a little more good will on both sides that that conflict could have been resolved peacefully long before it reached the crisis point. He'd always felt that Wiegraf was an honourable man who they could have treated with, and he still felt a large measure of guilt for having killed his sister in the conflict. Perhaps oddly, that guilt had multiplied after Tietra...

"Does that mean you were part of the Corpse Brigade?" Agrias suddenly asked, one hand actually going to her sword hilt.

"What? Are you _kidding_?" Ramza looked outraged. Ladd, inexplicably began to laugh, covering his eyes with one hand. Agrias shot him a confused glare.

"How _would_ you know what Folles' chocobo looked like, if you weren't one of his men?" She asked.

"I saw it a few times during the campaign against the Corpse Brigade. And before you ask, yes I did get close enough to be able to identify it." He pulled the high neck of his jerkin down on one side, revealing a thin scar that was only just visible in the firelight.

"Peck wound, from that vicious beast. I'm inclined to take Ser Gaffgarion's view of the bird, now that I've recognised it."

"Ah don't be like that, he likes you... now." Ladd said with some reproach.

"Until the next time he decides to try to pierce my jugular." Ramza sounded disgruntled.

"So how did _you_ end up taking part in the campaign against the Corpse Brigade?" Agrias asked, with a certain scepticism.

"Still think I'm some sort of assassin, my Lady?" Ramza asked with a sigh. Truth be told, Agrias didn't know _what_ to make of the boy. He started to speak again, without further prompting.

"You know that they had disbanded so much of the army, after the war, that when the Corpse Brigade rose up the Northern Sky couldn't field enough men?"

"Yes, Ramza, I may be part of the royal honour guard now, but I used to be a regular soldier with the Northern Sky, remember? I do try to keep abreast of these things." Her voice held a wealth of asperity.

"I know, my Lady, but you've been stuck away in that monastery for, what? Over two years?" He asked.

"I was guarding Princess Ovelia, not living as an anchorite." She replied caustically.

"Sorry... but then you must have heard that they called up all of the students from the final year of the Gariland Akademy and formed them into small squads to supplement the army." He said, keeping his own tone mild.

"Yes, I did hear. One went rogue, didn't it?" She asked. He paused, before replying.

"Something like that," he said, with a slight wince, "but... anyway, I was in my final year at the Akademy and I was one of the cadets called up. Nothing strange about it." He shrugged.

Fair enough, Agrias thought. She was pretty sure, now, that they really were Gariland Akademy alumnae and Ramza _was_ the right age. This time, she might as well believe him.

"Boco it is then." She said, wishing it would come to her just why Ramza had a vague sense of familiarity. Hopefully it might strike her, in the same way as Boco's identity had come to Ramza. As it began to rain, those who weren't on watch headed quickly for their tents.

* * *

_Eight miles ahead, on the plains around the Zeirchelle river._

The muffled sound of large drops thumping onto the canvas above her head woke Ovelia.

"Ser Delita." She called. "You can't sleep out there; that rain sounds really heavy. You need to bring your bedroll in here." After a few moments, the tent flap opened a little and the vague shape of his head poked through in the darkness. The light of the campfire was dying quickly in the rain.

"I don't want to intrude, Princess, and you can't possibly _want_ me in there." He said.

"At the moment, you are the only thing that stands between me and potentially being slaughtered by hoards of roving goblins, like we saw today. You becoming ill after getting soaked through benefits no-one." Her voice was very carefully neutral.

"_So_ glad you care, Princess." He said drily, with a sigh.

Today they had been very polite to one another, each wary after the previous evening. She hadn't slept much, the night before; she hated to admit it, but there were aspects of his tale that were very plausible; that thought had kept her wide awake until near dawn. She heard and felt, more than saw, his bedroll land within inches of hers. It was a tiny tent; there was little choice about such proximity. It took a few minutes for him to settle himself in the dark, but eventually he seemed to have finished all of his preparations.

Lying so close to him in the dark was strangely... intimate. She suddenly felt very self-conscious, but oddly able to say things she couldn't in the light, even that of the campfire.

"Ser Delita?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm going to spend my entire life as a puppet for one ambitious man or another, aren't I?" She heard him sigh.

"I wish I could say "no"." His voice was quiet, it sounded weary and, perhaps, a little sad.

To her own surprise, she began to cry. In the darkness, she felt a hand on her arm. It fumbled downwards and took her hand. She gripped it as if her life depended on it.

"These aren't _just_ selfish tears." She sobbed. "I _don't_ want that as my life, true enough, but I also don't want anyone else to have to die merely because I exist. There is going to be a war - people are going to die because of me, aren't they?"

"No!" His voice was intense, with more than a hint of anger and bitterness as he continued. "There is going to be a war because selfish power-hungry men care more for self-aggrandisement than for the lives of anyone else. That is _always_ the reason for war, it seems to me."

"But I'll be part of the reason it has to happen, won't I?" Her voice was still tremulous.

"Not exactly. You'll be part of the _excuse_. But if it wasn't you, they'd find a different excuse, I promise you that."

"Cold comfort." She said. They lay silent for a few moments, still hand-in-hand, as her tears subsided.

"Princess Ovelia?" He said quietly. His voice tentative, he went on.

"I apologise for what I said... the way I sneered at your ignorance, last evening. You were right. How could I expect a girl who has grown up so very sheltered to have any depth of understanding?"

"I wish I did understand, perhaps if I did, I could see a way out of this." Her voice still held the remnants of tears.

"I don't think there is one." He said.

"What if I didn't exist any more? Would that save lives?" She asked. There was a long silence.

"If this is leading up to you asking me to help you kill yourself, I won't do it. I didn't rescue you from Larg's lackeys just to have you martyr yourself so futilely." He said in a harsh tone.

"K-kill myself? No! Why in Ivalice...?" She trailed off – perhaps her words could have suggested that.

"My apologies, it seemed like the sort of quixotic nonsense a naïve chit might think of." He said. There was a moment's silence.

"Naïve _Chit_?" She gave a derisive laugh. "You must be considered a _real_ charmer by the women who know you!"

"I noticed on the first night that you have a hidden streak of sarcasm, Princess. It makes you a little more... real. I apologise for "chit"... And some woman _have_ found me charming, I'll have you know!" He sounded just slightly indignant. Unseen in the dark, she smirked a little but her tone when she next spoke was withering.

"The deaf, stupid ones, I presume?"

The moment of silence was more prolonged this time. Then she heard him laugh and mutter "touché, Princess". He lifted the hand she had almost forgotten he was holding and raised it to his lips, brushing a light kiss over the knuckles. She gasped and quickly snatched her hand away, glad that in the darkness he could not see the blushes, which the heat in her cheeks told her must have turned her face crimson. When she eventually spoke, her voice was very quiet.

"Those questions, they were leading up to me asking you to let me go. I can disappear, never to be seen again. If I can't be found, I can't be fought over." She waited, tense.

"Where would you go?" His inquiry was deceptively casual.

"I don't know, _exactly_. I need to think about the specifics, but I thought that, as a girl used to the ways of the cloister, I could find a small secluded nunnery and take holy orders. I can tell them I'm an orphan, a minor knight's only daughter, without dowry or skills to make my own way in the world. That's believable enough, I think, and _half_-true... in the essentials. And ladies join holy orders every day for similar reasons." She heard him give another small laugh.

"You'd _lie_ your way into a convent?" His tone was disbelieving, slightly amused too, perhaps.

"I'd have to confess to the Mother Superior, eventually, I suppose, once I was certain of her."

"Telling anyone would just increase the risk of discovery. Besides, would you actually _want_ to be a nun?" There was a long pause.

"No, not really - but I can't think of a better option for a gentlewoman with no skills and no money." There was another pause.

"If I thought it could work, I might even let you try it." Of course, she didn't know him well, but she didn't think that tone was completely sincere. His next words, unfortunately had more of the ring of truth.

"They'd hunt you down, both Larg and Goltanna. Neither are entirely stupid and they are both advised by clever men. They'd think of convents eventually and one or other of them would find you. If it's Larg's men, you'd die; if Goltanna's, you'd be back to being the puppet but, almost certainly, with considerably shortened strings." He paused, then his tone becoming gentle. "I'm sorry, Princess, I truly am, but you don't have the political background to see all of the implications of your idea... Besides, you're far too beautiful to be locked up in a nunnery permanently. It would be a terrible waste." She could hear the smile that must be on his face in those last words. It annoyed her.

"Do _not_ mock me!"

"_Mock_ you? I was paying you a compliment!" His tone sounded genuinely indignant - she didn't believe it.

"You were being sarcastic." She said stiffly.

"I _really_ wasn't." He sounded weary again. She didn't know what to say, so decided it was best to ignore that.

"All right, if you are so clever, at least politically, tell me, Ser Delita, what would you do, if you were me?" Her voice held a thread of bitterness.

"In the short term, survival _always_ has to be the goal. However much you want to change your situation, you achieve nothing if you don't survive to do it. I don't know how fully you believe me about this whole situation, yet, but, right now, your best bet for survival really _is_ coming with me. What is it you would like, for the longer term?" He seemed genuinely interested in her wishes. Dared she trust to that?

"Selfishly, all I really want is not to be the princess any more... Since I have no choice about that, I'd like a little real power... not for myself, you understand. I want the power to change things, stop the corruption, the brinkmanship over trifles, the willingness to spend men's lives like so much pocket change. I'd like peace and prosperity for the whole kingdom, contentment for the people. Easily achieved ambitions, wouldn't you say?" The bitterness of her tone had increased throughout that speech.

"You have very honourable instincts, Princess, but we both know that power will never be yours as long as you are the pivotal pawn who everyone merely talks up as the Queen. Would that you could have your wishes. Perhaps there is a way, but I don't yet see clearly how to achieve it."

"What way?" She sounded eager and fearful.

"You'd need to find someone who shares your dreams and who has enough honour to cut your strings or, at least, hold them lightly and share political power with you. This would probably work best if that someone were also a potential husband for you, I'd guess, though that certainly isn't essential. It would have to be someone with the political and military might to effect the changes you want and a willingness to share some of his power with you, just as he would share yours." His voice was musing.

"Since we are making the list of attributes for my mythical perfect husband, perhaps I can add that, personally, I'd like him to be young, handsome, kind and generous. Oh, and I'd like him to love me and honour me above all other women." She heard Delita bark a laugh.

"_I_ was serious. I can't think of anyone, yet, who can fully meet my description, but perhaps a dark horse will emerge. It isn't impossible."

"It's a pipe-dream."

"Probably." He said softly.

"Why am I even talking to you? We should both be asleep." She said, slightly petulantly.

"Goodnight then, Princess." He said with a sigh.

She turned on her side, pillowing her cheek on her hand – incidentally, she realised as she drifted off, it was the one he had kissed.

* * *

Author's Note:

Ramza really needs to learn that "engage brain before opening mouth" is a useful set of instructions for all occasions. It may take a while...

So is Delita a complete bastard, who is planning to take advantage of a naïve young girl as soon as he can, or is he himself a troubled young man who is acting out of pain and grief? Or can he be both? I'm still trying to decide, myself.


	5. 5 - Let Your Conscience Be Your Guide

**Vignette 5 – Let Your Conscience Be Your Guide**

_Zierchele Falls, Mid-Afternoon_

Even though it was only mid-afternoon, they'd made camp immediately after Delita's departure – the princess was exhausted and, the chase over, no-one else was about to refuse an afternoon of rest, either.

The air held a chill, so they had built a large bonfire and for once Ramza had simply lit it with magic, which he had only done before when the wood was particularly damp. Agrias watched him as he wandered away, wondering idly why he normally preferred a tinderbox.

As well as finding out what had happened, in general terms, in the last four days, Agrias had had a hushed conversation with the Princess:

"Did he hurt you at all, your Highness?"

"No. Not after Orbonne, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Agrias sounded outraged.

"He hit me to stun me. I thought you said you'd seen that part." Ovelia said in a matter-of-fact voice.

Agrias nodded slowly before she went on with her questioning.

"Did he... _touch_ you in any way, Highness?"

"How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Ovelia, Agrias? And I just told you he didn't hurt me after that."

"No, I mean, did he... take any liberties?" The girl was seventeen, surely, even with her sheltered upbringing, she had to understand what Agrias was asking... _surely_? After all, she'd asked Lavian to explain the mechanics of these things to the girl last year; Agrias could have done that herself, but a widow or married woman was considered to be the proper person for that sort of thing.

Ovelia's voice rose a little - in shock, perhaps – she'd finally realised what Agrias had meant.

"Liberties? Oh! No! He was a perfect gentleman. I mean, the most he did was kiss my hand, and that was only the once." Agrias hadn't heard Ramza approach but she noticed him at that point and saw him roll his eyes then shake his head and walk away when he heard that last part _and_ heard the tiny giggle that had accompanied Ovelia's pronouncement. That giggle made Agrias want to do a lot more than just shake her head; shaking Ovelia was the first idea that came to mind!

The princess' voice was more serious when she spoke again.

"Agrias. What happened to Elsebee? She was gravely injured, I know, but, before I could do anything for her, Ser Delita ran in and grabbed me."

"Elsebee died, but don't worry, Elder Simon found a Phoenix Down and knew how to use it. He declared that she wasn't well enough to travel with us, though, so I left her in his care." She didn't mention that this had annoyed her, as a warrior sometimes had to simply push on after being resurrected, just as poor Alicia had, that same day. But, then, what was she to do? Simon had had the girl all tucked up in bed and wouldn't let her be disturbed by the time the fight was over.

"Thank the Gods." The princess said fervently. "I was worried that she must have crystallised."

"No, she was brought back before true death could take her."

"Will you be sending for her, now that you've found me?" Ovelia asked. There was a long pause.

"No, I don't think so. She _seems_ like a nice girl, but she's only been with us for a couple of months. I can't be sure that she isn't an agent of the Northern Order." Agrias glanced briefly between Ladd and Ramza who were respectively chatting flirtatiously with Lavian as they erected the tents and grooming Boco with Alicia.

Both Lavian _and_ Alicia, now, distracted from their work by _men_! Gods, that was all she needed! Men were all very when there was _time_, but there were occasions when they had to come second to one's duty! Especially when she couldn't be sure if...

"You and Lavian used to be members of the Northern Sky, during the war, didn't you, though?" Ovelia asked, bringing Agrias out of her frowning reverie.

"Yes, but 'used to' are the operative words in that question, Highness. The war was... a very different time, it seems." Agrias gave a deep sigh – she'd never thought that she could long for the _simplicity_ of war.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, on that autumnal afternoon, Agrias was still sitting by the fire, mulling things over.

If the changeable expressions on their faces was anything to go by, Ladd and Ramza felt both worried and elated by their master's departure.

Ramza, perhaps, had more to worry about than his friend - what was it that Delita had said to him at the start of the fight? Something about Larg's plans but then something about the plot really being Dycedarg's? And asking Ramza if he agreed. She'd glimpsed Ramza look as if he'd been slapped, at that question, and then, squeezing his eyes shut, he'd given a curt head-nod in reply, even before Gaffgarion had confirmed its truth. In the heat of the fight and over the roar of the falls she'd heard nothing of the later exchange between Ramza and his erstwhile friend.

After their, apparently unquestioning, backing of her today she wanted to trust the two young sellswords but... well... it seemed unlikely, yet there was a still a small chance that this was all part of some elaborate back-up plan... an extremely small chance, admittedly. Agrias spoke quietly to Ramza, who was now sitting near, so as not to wake the slumbering princess, who had slumped sideways to rest against her shoulder.

"He, Delita, mentioned "Dycedarg" to you - Lord Dycedarg Beoulve, I presume?" It wasn't a common first name. "What do you know of him?" For a moment Ramza looked completely stricken.

_You know_, she thought, _the boy could be a connection of the Beoulves with that nose, those light-brown eyes and that golden hair_. She'd known Zalbaag Beoulve well, during the final part of the war. Though, even as they'd become closer, he'd talked only a little about his family. His elder brother, he respected and admired and as for his much younger half-brother and sister, he clearly had a strong affection for them, but she could only ever remember him referring to them as "the little brat" and "the little angel".

She knew the girl to be called Alma, as the princess accounted her one of her only true friends. The boy, whose name she didn't know was, she thought, a year, or so, younger than Alma. Zalbaag must be... thirty now. Lord Dycedarg, she remembered, was nine years older. Ramza was apparently eighteen - easily of an age to be a youthful indiscretion of Lord Dycedarg's. Had the other boy been taunting Ramza about his father?

Oblivious to Agrias' conjectures, Ramza swallowed hard and tried to keep his voice steady and speak about his lordly brother as if he'd never even had contact with the man.

"I'm from Gallione Province, my Lady. Lord Beoulve is well known there as an intelligent, if cunning, man and a master strategist, within both political and military matters. He's said to be the man who makes the plans which allow Duke Larg to realise his ambitions." There, his voice hadn't wavered too much, surely? He silently willed Ladd not to try to "help" him out with this. Glancing at him, he saw his friend in conversation with Alicia and Lavian.

"Yes, that's true enough. I served under Lord Zalbaag Beoulve during the war. I met his brother a few times; intelligent and cunning, certainly. But why would the Beoulves be involved in a plot to kill the Princess – Lord Barbaneth Beoulve's sons... _surely_ not?" She was musing, almost to herself. She wasn't looking directly at him and her mind was far away, so she didn't notice him go pale and begin to look sick to his stomach and she barely registered his next words, at first.

"W... They wouldn't! I mean... well... Zalbaag wouldn't... I don't think... I mean, surely... My gods! I hope _he_ at least hasn't fallen so... then again, perhaps... Tietra's proof that..." He trailed off, as his agitated rambling brought Agrias out of her reverie and she began to frown questioningly at him.

"Please forgive me, my lady... the fire - I'm too hot... I need a moment." Ramza sprang up and dashed away, moving close enough to the falls that he was partially concealed in the fine mist that they created. Agrias stared after him, dumbfounded and confused.

She was also sorry and a little exasperated; she'd wanted to ask him why he hadn't mentioned that Delita was also a Holy Knight. But... well... for once, she really _hadn't_ meant to upset him. She suddenly realised that there was no longer any conversation from the other three. When she looked over, Ladd just shook his head, looking serious. Apparently, his whole attention hadn't been on his own conversation. His voice, when he spoke, was serious as well.

"I'm not going to elaborate on what he already said, in part, at least, because I don't know much. But I promise," he said laying a hand over his heart, "he knows _nothing_ pertinent to this situation. Nor do I. Gaffgarion was not a man to share his plans and Ramza's had no direct contact with anyone from the Northern Sky for over a year now, including his... his Lordship.

"So, anyway, how well did you know Lord Zalbaag Beoulve?" He went on in an entirely different tone.

It was an obvious diversionary tactic, but Agrias still shot a quick quelling glance at Lavian.

"I was his aide-de-camp for the last ten months of the war. Lavian, her late husband and I served in a company that was, ultimately, under his command, even before that."

"Yeah?" Was all he said, then grinned. "I guess _ultimately_ I was under his command, too. I was part of a swordsman company in the last couple of years of the war. Admittedly, though, as a corporal I didn't exactly see much of him.

"Corporal? Are you _really_ a minor nobleman?" She asked, narrowing her eyes slightly. Ladd just nodded then shrugged.

"Yeah – well, son of one anyway – my father's a Baron. He has a small estate running along the Gallione side of the border with Fovoham. But see what I meant about being a perpetual squire? No knighthood meant no commission – not when my father was too angry to buy me one, after I got kicked out of the Akademy, anyway."

"If it bothers you, that you lack the "Ser", train with your friend more." She nodded her head slightly in Ramza's direction. "No-one really cares if a monk or a mage was ever formally knighted." Ladd appeared to be giving that idea some consideration.

"Someone should probably go and check on him; I think he was pretty upset." She said, knowing that _she_ should go, as it was she who had upset him, albeit innocently, for once.

She looked for Ramza, who could be seen at a distance, agitatedly pacing back and forth near the river, then glanced down at the sleeping Ovelia, who was settled against her and showing no signs of waking. Ladd was rising – he was probably the best one to go after his friend anyway, she thought.

"Ladd... I'm not sure _exactly_ what I said that upset him so, but tell him that I'm sorry I did, will you, please?" She saw Ladd give her a very intent look. She glanced away, ostensibly to look at the sleeping Ovelia again, who was sort of cuddling in to her shoulder – her oddly-damp shoulder.

"You know, I think she's drooling a bit." She said with a quirk of her lips, glad of the diversion.

Ladd dropped the serious look and suddenly grinned at her, delightedly.

"I didn't know that Princesses did that."

"Apparently, this one does." She said with a quiet laugh, as Ladd walked away towards Ramza.

She watched him go and suddenly realised that she hadn't asked either he or Ramza the simplest and most obvious question – why _had _they sided with her rather than their master? Was she just letting tiredness make her slow and stupid, or did she actually trust these two young men more than she was prepared to admit, even to herself?

Perhaps it was about time she did trust them. Ramza hadn't appeared to even consider siding with Gaffgarion and Ladd had only paused long enough to mutter "Ajora's arse and armpits, _this_ is just _great!_" between clenched teeth, and glance for a split second at Lavian before moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with his friend, facing down their former boss.

* * *

After leaving Ramza, the Princess and her stroppy bodyguard on the bridge that afternoon, Delita had walked briskly along the Fort Besselat road until he was certain he hadn't been followed. Then he had turned around and taken a more direct road back to the top of the falls. He supposed he'd have to head to Lionel and report his failure to the Cardinal. Of course, if Ramza and his new companions did as he expected them to, it really hadn't been much of a failure, just a temporary hitch in the plan; it might actually work out better for him, in some ways.

He reached the top of the falls and headed for the steep path down. As he noticed a column of smoke he froze, then crouched down and peered over the edge at the camp below. It wasn't even evening yet, what were they still doing here?

He sat and watched them for a while. When he saw Ramza separate himself from the group he had to steel himself not to go and speak to his friend... former friend, he supposed. He sighed and tried to settle himself more comfortably on the ground – that was awkward in armour. He stared unseeing at his friend... his 'brother'.

"She will not be another Tietra!" Ramza had said and he clearly wasn't part of the Northern Sky's plot, this time. He hadn't been part of the plot itself the last time either, of course, he'd just been its unwitting tool – along with Delita himself. Dycedarg had all but fomented that rebellion and Delita still couldn't see what it had really gained him, unless it was simply a decisive victory over the worst malcontents in Gallionne – a deterrent for others and an exercise in cementing their control of the Order, while appearing super-competent, for the Beoulve brothers.

Delita's gaze was tugged back to Ramza and he watched the blond boy for a few moments. If Ramza was fighting against the Northern Sky could he use that? Could he bring himself to use even Ramza?

Or... could he join with Ramza, give up his plans, form new ones. Help protect the princess for real? He'd been shocked to find himself coming to like the girl. He'd assumed she would be a spoilt petulant brat and instead, though only a few months younger than he, she'd seemed like a sweet naïve child, one whom he had begun to feel a strong protective instinct towards.

_Be realistic_, he told himself, _if_ _Ramza and I couldn't protect Tietra - a girl of no significance to anyone but those who knew and cared for her - how would the pair of us keep **this **girl safe? A **princess**_, _for the gods' sake!_

No, he'd have to stick with his plan. The princess was not his responsibility and he couldn't afford to let his conscience come into play. He'd acknowledged a year ago when, in bitterness and hatred, he first came up with the loose outline of this plan, that he'd have to give up both integrity and conscience if he was to succeed. He couldn't afford to regain either right now; they'd only hinder him!

He focused, for a moment, on Ramza again but then closed his eyes, refusing to look. Being this close to the other boy was not good for his resolve, he realised, as he felt a tear, that had squeezed itself from under his eyelid, run down his cheek. He opened his eyes and moved back from the edge of the falls – moved away from the temptation to try again to become the decent, honourable man he'd once assumed he would always strive to be.

* * *

The two sellswords were taking the final watch together that night. Ladd was already well-settled by the fire, as Ramza came back from a perimeter patrol.

As Ramza sat down, Ladd prodded him in the side with his elbow.

"I think Lady Agrias may have had a bit of a "thing" for your brother; she apparently used to be his ADC." Ramza gaped at him and Ladd shrugged a shoulder. "Couple of things she said today, though more the way she said them!" He added, in explanation of his out-of-the-blue claim.

"Please tell me that, when you say my brother, you _at least_ mean Zalbaag." Ramza croaked out after several long seconds.

"Yeah! Dear gods, her and Lord Dycedarg!" Ladd gave a short snort of laughter.

"Quite!" Ramza replied. "The very idea is terrifying. Actually, Lady Agrias is fairly terrifying on her own, wouldn't you say? Her and _Dycedarg?..._ Thank the gods that my mind won't even give me any sort of image involving her and Dycedarg. Even so, I have to say that Zalbaag probably had a very lucky escape! Oooph!"

"What?" Even though it was dark, Ramza thought he could hear the wide grin that he was certain would be stretched across Ladd's face, in that single word.

"Just trying to imagine her as my sister-in-law. Well, so far, I'm still only trying to imagine her in the sort of elegant dresses Zalbaag's lady would wear... Okay, I _think_ I have that picture, but _her_... and _Zalbaag_. I mean, she's a wolf in... well... wolf's clothing, I suppose." He laughed. "Did I already mention she terrifies the life out of me?"

"Yeah! She _is_ pretty, though." Ladd said in a musing tone.

"Lady Agrias!?" Ramza choked out.

"Yes! It's that sort of untouchable beauty of a perfect winter's morning when thick snow has fallen and no-one's broken the crust yet. Know what I mean?" Ladd nudged his friend again.

"Mmm. I suppose..." Ramza said, non-committally. "You know, Ladd, if you want to convincingly keep up your thick-as-two-planks-Muscle persona, you need to cut out these poetic flights of fancy."

"Mmm. I suppose." Ladd headed out to take his turn patrolling the boundaries of the camp.

"Zalbaag... and Lady Agrias." Ramza muttered quietly to himself after about another five minutes, still sounding pole-axed. After a few more seconds he went on. "No, that can't possibly be true!"

* * *

Author's Note:

Finding a girl terrifying isn't sexy, so that should be a big hint that I won't be trying to pair up Agrias/Ramza. She'd eat him for breakfast, anyway, and still have room for elevenses.

Since the question was asked in a review, I _won't_ be continuing to follow Delita around after this vignette, he'll show up in Warjilis, on schedule, but between now and then, I don't know exactly what he's supposed to be doing, so he'll stay 'off-screen'.


	6. 6 - A Question of Gender

This begins about ten minutes after the cutscene with Mustadio where they're in some basement or other. So, they're still in some basement of other...

* * *

**Vignette 6 – A Question of Gender  
**

_Zaland, late evening, sheltering in the basement of an abandoned house_

"AWK! WA-A-ARK! A-A-AWK!" Came from upstairs.

"Someone, go and see to that bird, please." Lady Agrias' voice was testy.

"I think he just doesn't like being indoors, my Lady." Ramza said inattentively. "I mean, a stable would probably be fine, but since none of the outbuildings were big enough, he's in a rather cramped old kitchen."

Ladd had already got up and was heading for the stairs. He came back down them slowly after a few moments, a strange look on his face.

"Ramza, you know you've always said "he" when you refer to Boco?"

"Yeah?" Ramza still showed little sign that his mind was really present.

"I'm _seriously_ doubting your word about the sex of that bird." Ladd said, his voice wry.

"What?" Asked Ramza, still taking far more notice of Mustadio's "pistol", which he was examining, than the conversation.

"You need to pay attention, Ramza. Boco - "he's" laid an egg. That was all the squawking." Ladd pointed up the stairs.

Lady Agrias just sighed deeply, swore under her breath and rolled her eyes at the news. She went over to the other two knights, who were involved in a low conversation, in the corner, with the Princess. Their new machinist acquaintance was sitting off to one side, watching the by-play, apparently happy to just to stay quiet for now; he appeared to be trying to figure them all out.

"_Please_ tell me you're joking." Ramza didn't sound hopeful. He knew just how quickly and easily chocobos could breed, he also knew just how difficult it was to tell their sex – as now, that was often near impossible until one laid an egg.

"I really, _really_, wish I was." Ladd said mournfully.

"Oh that's just _great_! Just what we need right now! AWK!" Ramza in his aggravation, had accidentally pulled on the trigger of the gun - thankfully, it had been pointed at the floor when it had gone off. Somehow, though they were all half-deafened, Ramza's sudden loud squawk of shock had still been audible.

"What? _You_ laid an egg now? You really should have told us of the doubts about your gender, you know. No-one would have judged. Though, seriously, we _need_ to get you some prettier clothes and maybe some make-up!" Ladd said, with an enormous grin plastered over his face.

"I know martial arts. I can punch people – _really_ hard. Sometimes, I can knock them out in one! You do know that, right?" Ramza said, trying very hard to look threatening. Ladd just grinned more.

* * *

After the drama of the egg, they continued to sit around in the basement for another half an hour, trying to decide what best to do – about both the general situation and the chocobo, in particular, who would now want to sit on her egg. For the second time in their short journey, the city watch had clearly been paid off to turn a blind eye while thugs attacked them. Admittedly not _them_ this time, but the young man who the princess had subsequently allowed to become the newest member of their band.

"You could cut your hair and dye it black." Ladd said speculatively, eyeing Mustadio. They'd been discussing ways to disguise both him and the Princess. Zaland was a bustling city, there could well be spies around, it was why they'd taken refuge in the basement of this house, in the first place, after the fight.

"Like hell I will!" Mustadio said succinctly, but sounding slightly absent and worried. So far he hadn't said too much, but that seemed clear enough.

"You know, the hair dying is a good idea." The Princess said, thoughtfully.

"_You_ can put that right out of your mind!" Lady Agrias said, in a tone of finality. "Sorry, your Highness." She added hurriedly, apparently having just remembered to whom she was speaking.

"Lady Agrias?" Mustadio put in, suddenly. "Do you have many younger brothers and sisters?"

"Four – three sisters and a brother – I'm the eldest. Why?" She frowned at him suspiciously.

"Just wondering." He said, still sounding vague.

Funny, Mustadio thought, as he watched her frown suspiciously at him, how Lady Agrias being in command seemed so much like being everyone's bossy big sister. Of course, part of the problem with the situation was that she really was so very little older than the rest. Being overly stern and serious was probably her way of hiding insecurities, he speculated. Overly stern, bossy harridan though she was, he hadn't failed to notice that she was also gorgeous.

Ladd, he considered, was actually rather bright, but liked to pretend otherwise. Laziness, he imagined, and maybe some insecurities of his own. Despite his baiting of Ramza, earlier, the two were clearly fast friends. Mustadio was also convinced that Ladd was head over heels with the Lady Lavian, though he hadn't seen a lot of interaction between the two yet, that was already patently obvious.

Lady Lavian hadn't said an awful lot, but he still thought that he wasn't wrong that Ladd could probably push things a little faster and she'd have no objections to make about the situation. As a personality, she seemed strong and quiet. She'd make a good foil for the garrulous joker, Ladd, probably. She was friendly with both Lady Alicia and Lady Agrias but he wondered if the relationship with Lady Agrias had been closer in the past, there had been passing mention of them serving together in the war and he didn't think there could be much more than a year between them in age, after all. Now, though, Lady Agrias was pushing herself and everyone else just a little too hard.

On the other hand, Lavian seemed close friends with Lady Alicia, who seemed like an open, chatty, likeable girl – also attractive, though to his eyes she paled when compared to her captain. He wasn't sure if there was much more to her than 'open, chatty, likeable', but he'd have time to find out. Alicia might be about his own age of nineteen, and he thought Ramza a little younger.

Of the group, Ramza probably kept the most aspects of himself hidden – the most that Mustadio could sense, anyway. As far as he knew, the young nobleman had no rank in this troop, yet somehow, he was certain that Ramza _was_ an aristocrat, even if he didn't have what Mustadio thought of as the requisite level of arrogance. He'd also observed him during the fight this evening and he had a natural battle-field authority that meant he could easily take command if anything happened to prevent Lady Agrias doing that duty.

Outside of battle, Ramza seemed as mild as milk and his confidence levels seemed to plummet. Yet somehow, when a problem arose tonight, Ladd had taken it straight to Ramza, not the lady in charge. Admittedly Ramza hadn't actually done anything. Then again, what could be done? You couldn't push the egg back into the chocobo - but he hadn't told Ladd to speak to the group's ostensible leader about it, either, even though she had been the one to issue the order to see to the bird in the first place.

The princess... well, she was far too young for her years. It seemed she had lived her life in seclusion and it really did show! Was she _really_ the princess? She was certainly treated like one, even if she kept telling everyone, even him, to call her just Ovelia. A flesh and blood princess... wow! That was certainly something to tell everyone about when he got back to Goug! Once he got his problems there sorted out, anyway.

"Ramza, don't we have _anything_ in Gaffgarion's old bag of tricks that might work for disguises?" Ladd suddenly asked.

"Not much, but get your best doublet on and I'll put on my last decent tunic and we'll see if we can still do enough of the arrogant nobles act to fool a shopkeeper into opening up specially for us. Ladies, do any of you have any gil to spare? I think the best thing will be to dress Mustadio and the Princess up as black mages. Concealing robes, big floppy hats and dark face-veils make excellent disguises." Lady Agrias dubiously produced a few hundred gil, which was added to Ramza's own meagre purse.

Ladd and Ramza went upstairs and changed out of their battle gear. Coming back down, they looked like a convincing pair of upper-crust young men ready to go out on the town. They collected the cash and Ramza changed from his utilitarian armour plated boots into expensive-looking, though well-worn, leather ones, then they headed out.

Mustadio was closest to the cellar steps, so he could hear Ladd speak to Ramza as they neared the top.

"You know, if you hadn't unpicked your house colours from the front of that tunic this would be a lot easier and we probably could have bought the entire contents of the shop on _credit_!"

"That wouldn't be very honest, since I couldn't afford to come back and pay - and I'm not going to sully my father's name further by trading on it like that. Besides, if I hadn't unpicked them, the ladies would know exactly who I am!"

"And that would _really_ be so bad? She's starting to trust you more, I think."

"Yes! It definitely would!"

Interesting. He had noticed the ladies looking speculatively at the two aristocratic young bucks who had suddenly emerged from the two unremarkable squires and, even before overhearing that snippet, he had realised that the men and the women on this team didn't know each other all that well. And never would, it seemed, if Ramza had his way.

He pondered a little more and decided that they probably hadn't been assigned together until recently and were still trying to work out how all the pieces fit. He didn't fit, he'd realised quickly; he was clearly the only person in this room of low-birth, and he'd decided early on that he'd just stay quiet and keep his eyes and ears open until he felt more sure of himself around these people.

Mustadio had always found people-watching a fantastic way to entertain himself and he thought that this group might be a particularly entertaining set of people to watch. It would, at least, help him keep his mind away from his worries. There was something just slightly odd about the whole set-up and Ramza was probably the key to that oddity. Like them, he couldn't see how they fit together as a group. But he would. Understanding how things worked was something he was good at, be it people or machines.

* * *

Author's note:

If I'm keeping Boco around, I'm not going to entirely ignore "its" most inveterate trait – laying the damned eggs. Last time I played, I did an errand at Eagrose, where I had one chocobo (Boco) on the team, when I started, and three chocobos and two unhatched eggs by the time I had walked them between Eagrose and Ziekden enough times to finish the errand – and that isn't untypical of chocobos' fertility in the game! So Boco's a girl – I'm sooo not about to start explaining where the eggs come from if she isn't!

In response to a couple of reviews: For clarification, no there won't be RamzaxAgrias; I'm not averse to that ship - there's some great fics out there, written with that pairing - but it wouldn't work between my versions of them, I promise that. That doesn't mean this will be a hands-off affair - these are a bunch of high-school/college/university-aged people, who are going to be spending pretty much all of their time together for months/years. They're also fit, healthy and reasonably attractive - what do any of you imagine might happen under those circumstances as the numbers in the group increase?


	7. 7 - Money Matters

**Vignette 7 – Money Matters**

_Crossed Keys Inn, Zaland, morning_

"So we're not moving on today?" Ramza asked Lady Agrias, over breakfast, a little surprised.

They'd hired a small private dining room at the large coaching inn that they'd finally reached very late last night.

"No. The Princess needs a day to rest and relax, after her ordeal. Besides, I thought we could all use a break, and it'll give Boco the time to hatch 'his' egg. I know his father's being held prisoner, but Mustadio seems confident that there's no imminent danger and he'll stay with us because we're the best chance he has to speak to the Cardinal." Ramza shrugged as he replied to that.

"Okay... You know..." he mused, "my grandparents run a chocobo stud farm and I used to spend a lot of time out there with them, but it still amazes me how quickly the things breed. Boco being a girl explains a lot, though; females are always _far_ more aggressive." He saw more than one aggressive gaze upon him. "What? I was only speaking of chocobos... _obviously_." Ladd and Mustadio looked at each other and started to laugh. Ramza cleared his throat uncomfortably, pink tingeing his cheeks.

"Okay... well, anyway... Ladd's been talking about making a shift to Chemist for a while, to upgrade his skills in that area. I want to try learning some time magick, now that I'm feeling confident with black and white, so I thought, while the weather's fine, the two of us might head back to that big clearing we passed twenty minutes out of town and do some practise this morning, if you don't need us for anything, my Lady?" After seeing Agrias nod, he glanced a query at his friend, who, mouth full, still managed to grin and give him a thumbs up.

Agrias continued to watch the boy thoughtfully for a few moments, then sighed and shocked him with praise.

"You're such a good example of what can be done when someone is prepared to train in multiple disciplines, and I know both Alicia and Lavian are keen to try out some new skills, so I'm sure they'd like to join you, but I can't have the princess here with only me for a guard."

"We can go with them, Agrias. I'd be quite interested to see you all train." The princess put in. Agrias wanted to spend some time on her skills - she knew how precarious their situation was that her Sword Techniques were possibly the most powerful weapon they had in their arsenal... Though... who was she kidding? Neither she, nor Mr Multi-Talented Ramza Lugria, nor anyone else could make a difference if the Northern Sky caught up with them in force.

"Mustadio, I don't know if you want to join in our actual training but, just to be on the safe side, you'd better come along with all of us." Ramza said, then glanced apologetically at Lady Agrias - after all, it was her place to make such decisions.

"Oh yeah!" Ladd suddenly said, enthusiastically. "I can try out your pistol, can't I? I've been thinking, you know, Chemists have to be really accurate at a distance with their Potions and the like, so combining it with a weapon that can also shoot accurately from behind the front lines would be great, so that we could also contribute more fully to the fight. Bows are no good, they need two hands and you can't easily carry a full quiver and a full pouch of medicines, and I've never thought highly of crossbows - except for a bit of convenience when you're hunting for supper - but Chemists with guns, I _like_ that idea."

Ramza looked at his friend, for a moment, considering that and decided that he liked that idea too. He wondered if other combat styles could be adapted to guns. Chemists did seem the most obvious but... perhaps Orators? Unlike the unusual shouts and calls his father had taught him, an Orator's verbal incantations needed a high level of magical skill to have a hope of working, and that left them vulnerable and woefully underpowered using the knife that they normally carried, but give them a gun and they could both shoot and talk an opponent to death or surrender from a distance. That might just work. Thief?... No, probably not; it would ruin the stealth aspect.

He would try learning some Orations himself, if they could get some guns, he decided. By the sound of it, he'd need to go to Goug to buy some, though. Unfortunately, their limited finances probably wouldn't stretch as far as guns... he'd have to give this some more thought.

* * *

After they had trained, they were re-entering the inn and limited finances raised their head again.

"You go on." Agrias said to the other women. "I'll speak to the innkeeper – hopefully, he knows of a relatively honest banker or money-lender who can give me a reasonable rate on one of those bills of exchange. Assuming he knows one, I'll head out and get us the money we need." She sighed and then noticed Ramza nearby, chewing his lip as he watched her. "Is there a problem, Ramza?" She waved the other five away.

"I don't mean to interfere, my Lady, but are the bills of exchange you mentioned to draw from your own bank or from the Royal Treasury, as a Lionsguard Captain?" His quiet voice was hesitant.

"The Treasury, of course; I'm not made of money. I have one from my own bank, too, but I can draw a lot more from the royal coffers, if necessary, than I can from that. As things are, I currently only have enough cash to pay for the inn, but we'd barely be on half-rations until we reach Lionel, if I don't get some more money." Agrias had been going to speak sharply to the boy about minding his own business, however, she noticed that he seemed genuinely troubled. "What is it, Ramza?"

"Have you thought about being traced?" He asked quietly. "Once a money lender has given you cash in exchange for the bill, it's only good business for him to arrange to redeem the bill as soon as possible. That means it's going to be presented to the Royal Treasury within the next couple of weeks. Once they know we headed to Zaland after Zierchelle..." He didn't need to finish that sentence – if they'd gone south after Zierchelle, they really only could be headed to Lionel. Agrias swore, quietly but virulently.

"Fine, fine - I'll have to use my own money then. Thank the gods I have more than just my pay to live on!" Though it was annoying that the small inheritance she had been left by her godmother was going to be eroded like this.

"You're sure that no-one could trace you through your bank?" Ramza asked.

"Anything's possible, but I doubt it; I'm of age, no-one else has a right to know when or where I draw on my own money."

"Lucky you!" Ramza muttered morosely, thinking of the small fortune that he must be accumulating from the rental income of the properties that his father had left him. He felt forced to leave that money untouched because he was still three years off his majority and every aspect of that patrimony was currently being managed by his eldest brother's Land Agent. He noticed Agrias' raised eyebrow, and realised that she must have heard him, but he pointedly ignored the interrogative expression on her face and, with a small bow, excused himself and moved swiftly away to find the others.

* * *

After she returned with a restocked purse, Agrias had hired a small private sitting room for this evening, as well as ensuring that they'd still have the use of the dining room they'd used that morning. Late afternoon saw them all arrive back from the shopping expeditions that they had gone on. The three men had come back first. Ramza had gone out, before breakfast, to take a couple of pieces of damaged armour to the blacksmith and he and the other two had picked them up on the way back from the grocery and apothecary that Lady Agrias had sent them to, to replenish supplies.

Once he had stowed their parcels, Ramza had joined the other two in the sitting room and happily lounged on a settle with a book, while Ladd and Mustadio continued their game of backgammon. Only perhaps ten minutes later the women arrived back. They heard Lady Agrias speaking as she opened the sitting room door.

"You can nag me into _buying_ a dress, but you can't make me _wear_ it." The men looked at each other – none of them had to say _'Lady Agrias in a dress?'_ to know that the others were thinking the same thing. The door closed behind the four women.

"I could order you." The princess' voice was matter-of-fact as she removed the floppy hat and veil.

"What happened to the, supposedly, egalitarian young woman of this afternoon, your Highness?"

"I've told you time and again, Agrias, to call me Ovelia." The princess' voice was mild, as she ignored the question. Agrias wasn't letting it go.

"Yes! In almost the same breath as you say you'll _order_ me to wear a dress, your... Ovelia. I like dresses, I really do, but you know I haven't worn one since I arrived at Orbonne!" Agrias almost wailed that last.

"High time you did, then." That was in a tone that brooked no opposition. Agrias turned on the three men.

"If I hear as much as a single snigger from you three..." The tone held an almost hysterical threat.

"Why would we, my Lady?" Mustadio, smoothly put in. "Any man with an eye for beauty can see that you will go from lovely to breathtakingly gorgeous with only a tiny amount of adornment."

Agrias' mouth dropped open and she gaped at him wordlessly, as did everyone else. He suddenly grinned cheekily at her. She narrowed her eyes and walked back out of the room, carrying her packages, without uttering a word. With a variety of expressions on their faces, the other women followed, with their own parcels, after the princess had quickly re-donned her disguise.

"You like to live dangerously, don't you?" Ladd said to Mustadio, as the door shut.

"Yes," Ramza added, frowning, "you were watching this morning, weren't you? You did see what she can do with a sword, right?"

"She's a very pretty girl who takes everything far too seriously. Too much responsibility too young, I imagine." Mustadio continued to smile lazily, as he stretched his arms above his head to loosen his shoulders, having been sitting too long hunched over the backgammon board.

"That's what happens when you're a Holy Knight." Ramza said with a shrug. "Which brings me back to what I just asked - you have _seen_ what she can do with a sword?" Ramza actually looked a little concerned for him.

"I'll lay odds that the princess will order her not to carry a sword with the dress tonight, as well." Mustadio said with an anticipatory grin.

"All right, but be warned, you take this any further and I'm not wasting a Phoenix Down on a suicidal man like you when she Cleansing Strikes the arse off you the moment she has a sword again." Ladd said mildly.

"I bet you she doesn't. Every girl likes a bit of flirting. Besides, her bark's much worse than her bite." The machinist said, winking.

Ramza just shook his head at Mustadio, in disbelief, before he spoke to Ladd.

"You really aren't wrong about the suicidal part, are you?"

* * *

"I've said I'll wear the dress, but I'm not wearing my hair down, even if you do order it, y... Ovelia. Loose hair is for very young maidens, which I'm not!" A few minutes after leaving the men, the four women were in the bath house, grateful that they were the only ones in there so that they didn't have to worry about the princess going without her disguise. The three Lionsguards kept their swords close at hand, nonetheless, even as they bathed.

"Well you aren't _old_, which means you just said you're no maiden. So do tell us who the lucky man was." The princess retorted with a mischievous grin.

"I... it... Ovelia _really_!" Agrias ducked under the water to wash the soap out of her hair and hide her flaming face. _Apparently_, Agrias thought ruefully, _I was wrong, a couple of days ago, to wonder whether Lavian's explanations to her about relations between men and women had been good enough! _She surfaced only when her breath ran out.

"All I mean is I'm not about to treat dinner at this inn with the formality of some court function. Besides, I'm older than Lavian and she won't be wearing hers down!" She said as her head emerged from the water. "It's just the seven of us, and if any of you think I'm dressing to impress those three louts, you've another think coming."

"Lavian's a widow, it's an entirely different case." Ovelia said. She glanced across at Alicia, still with the light of mischief in her eyes. "Lout or not, I think Ramza's quite good looking, don't you Alicia?" She achieved what she had intended, as the youngest Lionsguard agreed enthusiastically, then blushed crimson. Agrias rolled her eyes and noticed Ovelia watching _her _again. "And Mustadio is fairly handsome, too, and he was certainly very _lavish_ with his compliments earlier." Though the Princess' expression was guilelessness, it fooled no-one.

"He's just a _boy_, as well as a _lout_." Agrias said decidedly, trying not to let her irritation show.

"He's just turned nineteen - I asked - and at twenty-two you are practically old enough to be his _grandmother_, aren't you?" Ovelia asked. Agrias gave a heavy sigh.

"You know, Ovelia, you were so much easier to handle when you were just the shy little girl I first guarded." Agrias said.

"I was _fifteen_!" The princess protested.

"And still, very much, a little girl; you've always led a very sheltered life! I can't decide if this _adventure_ has been good or bad for you!" She added drily. "Being serious, though, trying to play matchmaker, in the middle of a crisis like this, really isn't helpful. They're decent enough boys, but none of them is the be-all-and-end-all, we all have better things to think about." She caught sight of the blushing Lavian.

"Ah... well, that isn't to say that if you and Ladd keep your minds on your work, Lavian, that you can't do what you like when you're off-duty. Besides, we all know that, in theory, being a widow allows you more freedom than the rest of us are supposed to have." Lavian blushed even more at the implications of those blandly stated words. "But all of the rest of this is just silly, so please stop, Princess."

* * *

Lying in bed, much later that night, Agrias looked back on the evening with mixed pleasure. Wearing a dress hadn't elicited any laughter, though she would be having more _words_ with Mustadio in the morning about his continual outrageously inappropriate attempts at flirtation with her. All in all, though she'd never admit it aloud, it had been nice to feel more like a woman again, rather than nothing more than a knight, for one evening.

She suddenly realised that something about today had finally put away her last doubts about their companions and that at some point she had decided that she had to trust Ramza and Ladd. She'd been right earlier, "decent enough boys", indeed. That didn't mean that she didn't want to know the details of who and what Ramza was, though. She wouldn't be happy until she had solved that mystery.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Boco's egg will have an incredibly short incubation but it forced my hand, making me write a "hanging around, mostly just for the sake of it" vignette, which let me play around with a few things, but didn't take us anywhere much. They'll be back on the road in the next one. My chocobos have incredibly short hatching times, and once hatched, they mature remarkably quickly, but it still holds up the story, though it allows me to explore some of the practical sides of things such as money. Assuming Boco keeps on laying eggs, periodically, it will give me a chance to have the group staying in towns for a day here and there, occasionally, instead on continually moving. I'll use it when I feel like I want a little variety to the story's setting – though it probably won't be often.

I know it's terribly stereotypical for the women to have spent part of the day clothes shopping, but Ovelia was kidnapped and it's not like Delita gave her time to fetch a spare outfit! Hence it felt justified, and the dress allowed me to start up a Mustadio trying to flirt with Agrias scenario, which will eventually culminate in the birthday gift of Tynar Rouge.


	8. 8 - A Sacred Duty

**Vignette 8 – A Sacred Duty**

_A Ruined Building on a Hilltop, 21 miles South-East of Zaland, late-afternoon_

That afternoon, Agrias had halted them for a half-hour's rest at the ruins of an old watch-tower and had been amused to hear Ramza and the Princess play a tuneless song on pieces of grass. She had been less amused when, after that, the Princess had suddenly announced that she thought it would be an excellent idea if they just set up camp for the night here, even though there was at least another couple of hours of daylight.

Agrias had asked her why they weren't pressing on, as she showed the princess, at her request, how to build a campfire.

"Partly because I was worried about how Boco's little chick was coping, but mostly, I suppose, because I know I have to go back to the cloistered life soon and I'd really like to put it off for as long as possible." Came the wistful answer.

"Oh!" Well, that was fair enough. She wasn't exactly looking forward to that aspect of Lionel either, though she would be grateful that there was dozens of extra swords all around them.

_Extra swords..._ She looked around and found Ramza and Ladd with Mustadio, messing around with the pistol, yet again - this was probably all some arcane piece of male-bonding that she wouldn't want to know the details of. Although the two mercenaries had been invaluable up until this point, they would essentially be redundant once they got to Lionel.

She wondered what the two sellswords' intentions were once they reached there. She asked them, when the three of them plunked themselves down, laughing, by the fire, a few minutes later.

"Ramza?" Was all Ladd said, with a shrug.

Ramza rolled his eyes – he'd been clear with Ladd that he didn't want to be in charge, but Ladd just kept treating him as if he was, anyway. He was only eighteen and Ladd was close to twenty-two, wouldn't it be more natural for Ladd to _want_ to lead and not defer to a teenager all the time?

"I've been meaning to speak to Mustadio about that." Ramza said. Since, whether he liked it or not, he seemed to be in charge of their band of mercenaries, albeit that 'the band' only consisted of the two of them, so he may as well act like a leader. He turned to the machinist. "Can you make more of those 'pistols'?"

"Yeah, I _could_, but I also know a special shop in Goug where you could buy them. It's not cheap and it doesn't sell to just anyone, so you'd need me to take you. You could get them there straight away, whereas it'd take me a few days to make you one." Ramza shrugged in response.

"I doubt we could afford the shop, then. However, I've been thinking. You said something last night about thinking about hiring mercenaries, until you met up with us, and that's what Ladd and I are. I thought, even if the whole thing with the Cardinal works out as you hope, that a couple of extra swords could do you no harm."

"You two are sellswords? I thought you were under Lady Agrias' command?"

Mustadio was truly shocked, Ladd and Ramza simply didn't appear as he thought mercenaries should. He'd have to admit that his experience with sellswords was severely limited, but he had heard stories. Instead of behaving like those tales, the other two men were polite, well spoken and, though he'd found them surprisingly friendly, they still seemed like the epitome of young gentlemen, to him, even though they worked for their living. He'd never have pegged them for mercenaries; it wasn't seen as a very honourable calling. In fact, he hadn't thought the nobility did that sort of work - when they worked at all, that was.

"Temporarily." Ramza said, glancing at that lady. "But we're not Lionsguards, that's for sure."

"Sellswords? Hmm. You aren't going to do it for free, then, are you?" Mustadio's voice was musing.

"No, but if you'll make us a gun I'll happily call it quits." Ramza said.

"You'll never get rich that way." Mustadio said, with a laugh.

"No but it's still better than right now - we're scraping by, looting corpses and such, after fights. It may sound gruesome..." he grimaced, "and rather dishonourable, but if we want the money to eat, it has to be done, and Ladd's right, a chemist with a gun is going to be a very valuable addition to any team."

"It's a deal! Hell, if you'll help me get my dad back, you can have _this_ gun! I can easily make another!" Mustadio said, grinning.

"Will you two be coming back through Lionel after Goug?" Lady Agrias asked.

"Probably." Ramza said, at the same time as Ladd said "Yes!" while looking at Lavian. Agrias continued to look thoughtful.

"Hmm... Lavian, Alicia, assuming the Cardinal assigns us plenty of guards for the princess, would you like to go with them to Goug? Help Mustadio rescue his father?" She looked over at the two young knights.

"Yes, but... are you sure?" Lavian said tentatively, looking confused.

"Well, I'd at least like Alicia to go." Agrias said, which raised some eyebrows. "That means that, if nothing else, you get to go along as a sort of chaperon." She said to Lavian.

"Why do you want _me_ to go, in particular?" Alicia asked, sounding bewildered.

"You missed the war, and you were already at Orbonne when the Corpse Brigade campaign began, which means you've probably had more hands-on experience of fighting since we left the monastery than during the rest of your service. Somehow, the way things have been, I suspect that if you stick with Ladd and Ramza for another couple of weeks, that you'll get a lot more. Besides, we've all seen that our young multifaceted fighter over there can give you a wider variety of training than I can." She said, nodding at Ramza, sounding only a little grudging in this praise.

"We'll see how things go with the Cardinal, of course, but if he decides that the Princess is to stay in Lionel for the foreseeable, I don't see why you shouldn't go with the boys to help Mustadio." Audacious flirt or not, there was something very likeable about the cheeky young machinist and she half-wished she could go along and help him, herself.

* * *

Ramza and Agrias shared the first watch that night. With an open hilltop to look out from, they could sit close and chat, as there was no need for walking a perimeter; as long as they kept looking around, they'd see anything coming for them long before it arrived.

"Thank you for allowing Ladies Alicia and Lavian travel on with us. I'm sure Mustadio must be extremely grateful... If I may ask, my Lady, were you being honest about your reasons for sending them with us, or is it to keep an eye on me in case I decide to double back to assassinate the princess as soon as I'm out of your sight?" His tone was carefully neutral.

"No, and I'm very sorry now about accusing you... Tell me, Ramza, if you were in charge of this expedition, would you be taking the Princess to Lionel to be safe from the two Lions?" She sounded as if she would genuinely value his opinion – this really _was_ a major change in her attitude!

"Probably, since I have no better ideas. I just hope that the Northern and Southern Skies are the only two factions plotting against her.

"Now tell me, Lady Agrias, the Lionsguards may be exclusively in charge of the Royal Family's safety but, since the old King's death, Duke Larg has taken over every aspect of the kingdom's administration." Which meant that the day to day running of that was undoubtedly being supervised by Dycedarg - a thought which chilled and angered him. He shook his head and then went on:

"As I understand it, it was he who arranged for us and Gaffgarion to supplement your small command on the way to the Capital. I'm horrified by the very idea, but Gaffgarion would probably have slit her throat, and yours, the moment you were asleep, that first night.

"Yet the Lionsguards are now, in reality, in the employ of the Northern Sky – through his sister, Larg is the _real_ Regent for the little King, after all, even if that ends up being a temporary arrangement. What is your situation now? Where does your loyalty to the Princess leave _you,_ when the Regent wants her dead?"

Agrias was only a little surprised. Ramza had never really talked politics before, but this whole situation was intensely political and the parts of his semi-shouted conversation with Delita at the falls, that she'd heard, had already hinted that Ramza might just understand the country's political situation better than he had demonstrated until now.

"I don't know." She said. "I don't trust Goltanna one whit more than Larg. The Northern Sky wants her dead, yet you're right, I, the head of her guard, am... well _was,_ I'd imagine, effectively in their employ. Why do you think I've continued to be so irritable, even after we got her back?... You know, if the new Lord Beoulve really is behind the Northern Sky plot, the old one must be turning in his grave."

"He would be horrified and disgusted at the very idea." Ramza said with conviction. He continued in a mutter that was more meant for himself than her. "Why did he have to die? He'd barely had a day's sickness in his life until a few weeks before his death." His voice was suddenly choked with unshed tears. He was convinced that had his father lived none of this... this horrendous awfulness would have happened. Oh hell! Had she taken notice of what he'd said?

He was glad when her response showed her to be too preoccupied to have picked up on his over-emotional reply. He swallowed hard and concentrated for all he was worth on her next words.

"I have a job to do, Ramza. When I became a Lionsguard, two years ago, I made a vow to protect those in my charge and that means that I have a _sacred duty_ to protect the princess. So no matter how my superiors plot I _will_ see her protected." Her voice held a wealth of vehemence.

"I know you will. You'll see she's safe." He tentatively gave her shoulder an awkward pat. She absently reached up and patted his hand, in return.

"If I ever needed allies again to help protect her, in the future, would you and Ladd be able to make yourselves available? I don't know anyone else to trust."

"Thank you for the honour you do me, my lady, and I wish I could say "yes" unreservedly. It is a true privilege to serve under a commander such as you, but I have no idea where we will go in the future. I promise to bring Alicia and Lavian safe back to Lionel before the month is out, but after that, I have no idea what we will do. We have no base of operations, no home where you could contact us.

"However, if we do manage to obtain a base, I will let you know immediately and would be at your disposal as soon as humanly possible."

"Mustadio's right about you, you know. You'll never be rich, unless you first ask how much someone calling on your aid will pay you." Ramza looked at her, shocked.

"I thought you were asking me to protect the Princess. Surely protecting a lady isn't something that a gentleman should be paid to do." For a moment, Agrias wondered how this naïve young man had managed to end up as a sellsword at all.

"How much were you, ostensibly at least, being paid, as part of Gaffgarion's team, to do exactly that?" She asked gently. Though the question perhaps should rather be, 'How much was Gaffgarion being paid to ensure she _wasn't_ adequately protected?', she thought.

He answered the implication rather than the question.

"Then I suppose it's true, I'll never become rich as a sellsword." He said with a rueful laugh. "Perhaps I should try harder to make Ladd take the lead – yet he keeps insisting that it has to be my job."

"I think we both know that you are the more natural leader; you seem to fall into that role effortlessly when you don't think about it too much. You just need to believe in yourself a little." _That, and stop being so damned naïve!_

There was silence for a couple of minutes between them, then Ramza spoke again.

"Er... I'm sorry if this is an impertinent question, but why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden, my lady?"

"Mostly it's because I _haven't_ been very nice up until now. I know I've been irritable and suspicious and I'm sorry about that. I'd hate for anyone to think that what you have seen of me over the last few days was typical."

The rest of the watch was spent much more companionably than the two had ever had managed to be with each other before.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Not much to say about this one, so I'll just say thank-you to everyone who has reviewed, I truly do appreciate all of the nice things people have said. I'd also like to say again that, if anyone has constructive criticism that will help me improve as a writer, I'd really appreciate 'hearing' it too.


	9. 9 - Crystals, Chocobos & Temper Control

I can't be the only one who has wondered if you would only get job-based techniques from those crystals. They're basically dead peoples' experiences after all:

* * *

**Vignette 9 - Of Crystals, Chocobos and Controlling One's Temper  
**

_Just past Balias Tor, late afternoon._

If they'd pressed on, they probably could have reached Lionel shortly after nightfall, but no-one had left the fight that afternoon uninjured so, as soon as they were away from the peak of the exposed, windy Tor, they set up camp and began the healing process.

Even after he was healed, Ladd looked wide eyed and would occasionally give a convulsive shudder. After the fight with Baert's hirelings, he'd absorbed the crystal that had materialised from the body of one of the knights and, while it allowed him to access some of the the man's skills, he also kept getting flashes of pure terror. It happened sometimes and, once you had had a full night's sleep – if you could get to sleep, that was – it usually stopped but, for the next few hours, he'd have a rough time of it as he relived the feelings that the knight had been having as he died.

Ramza had also absorbed a crystal – from one of the summoners, as he was the only one skilled enough with magicks to use the knowledge. He'd been lucky; that one had held no sense of emotions, and he'd got the knowledge of Shiva, Moogle and Poison from it. Spell incantations were easy to learn by rote, but sometimes one just couldn't get a spell to work when it came to casting them. This was a way to bypass all the practise and the time trying to find the right frame of mind for each.

About one out of every eight or ten crystals would give you the terrors along with the knowledge that they all could yield. No-one could like it, but Ramza also never complained if he took one like that; to his way of thinking, it stopped you ever becoming complaisant about taking another person's life. It reminded you that the person whose life you had taken had been a living, breathing human being with their own thoughts and feelings, who you shouldn't have be killing at all, if any alternative had presented itself. It could also be a useful reminder that if you weren't very careful, next time it could be you!

It was always a gamble, trying to take a crystal in the heat of battle, though – even when you got a bad one, you could usually get past the proxy-feelings when your own life was on the line, but if it was especially strong it could become a distraction. Afterwards, most people who were affected by it reacted like Ladd, who was currently reassuring Lavian he was fine. Ramza could see, even from several yards away that he wasn't – he had a sheen of sweat across his brow and was still shivering.

He and Ladd both liked chocobos and enjoyed looking after them, but since Ladd wasn't much of a cook, Ramza had usually found himself helping Lady Alicia with that task, while Ladd looked after Boco, and now her chick. However, no-one was going to make a man with the crystal terrors do any camp chores and, besides, Mustadio was a better cook than any of them. His mother had died when he was little more than a baby, so his dad had been forced to cook for himself and his son, and Mustadio had learned from him as soon as he was old enough to lend a hand.

So Ramza headed over to check Boco's leg for damage; he thought he'd seen one of the knights hit her there with a thrown stone, earlier. After finding no obvious injury, he began to groom Boco and the princess appeared. She was holding some tender greens and she began to try to tempt the, now waist-high, chick to take some directly from her hand. The little thing kept backing away, even though she was approaching him gently.

"Boco's a bit ruffled after the fight, Your Highness, and that's communicating itself to little Tyche. Give her a few minutes to enjoy being groomed and that should calm them both. Then I'm sure the little one will come to you. For the moment, why don't you just sit quietly on that fallen log and it will let both of them become accustomed to your presence.

"You know a lot about these birds, don't you, Lord Ramza?" She asked quietly.

"Yes, like I said in Zaland, my grand... I'm sorry, what did you just call me, Highness?" His voice had risen in pitch and Boco ruffled her feathers at him, in response. His hands automatically soothed her, but his eyes were all for Princess Ovelia.

"I used your title – your _correct_ form of address. You're sufficiently like Alma that I'm surprised, now, that I didn't realise who you were, immediately, you know." The princess watched his mouth drop open. Though her voice continued to be composed, she smoothed her hands nervously over her skirts before she went on.

"I finally realised who you were yesterday evening, after supper, though it had been niggling at the back of my mind since the afternoon. You really shouldn't have shown me the trick of whistling on grass, if you didn't want me to make the connection. Ramza's a reasonably common name in Gallionne, or the realisation might have come to me sooner. Alma's letters have never failed to mention her worry for you, for over a year, now.

"Now, a suspicious person might say that it was an incredible coincidence that the youngest Beoulve brother should happen to be amongst the band of sell swords who were sent to kill me, when at least one of the other Beoulve brothers is up to his neck in the plots against me. However, even an _incredibly_ suspicious person, and we both know one not a million miles from here, would probably say that you've earned _some_ benefit of the doubt by now. So it's all right; I'm not going to tell her who you really are... I do think you should let Alma know that you're alive and well, though."

"You know I can't do that, yet, Highness. Gaffgarion knows I'm with you and what Gaffgarion knows, I think my eldest brother will very quickly, at least as long as Dycedarg pays him for that information. So I don't dare to contact Alma until I'm far away from here – at least out of Lionel Province altogether... possibly out of Ivalice."

"Out of Ivalice?"

"I'm a sellsword, now, Highness – that could take me anywhere... and Ivalice isn't the country it used to be; not with people like my brother Dycedarg running things behind the scenes. I speak a little Romandan, so I wondered if there might be work for me there. It's idle speculation; I doubt I'd actually have the guts to _really_ do it. Besides... my father, he loved Ivalice and its people, I'd feel like I was abandoning his... Oh never mind."

He went back to grooming Boco, his face set in lines that spoke only of concentration on the task. He therefore surprised her when he spoke, his voice quiet, his hands still going about their business.

"Princess Ovelia, when did you last hear from Alma?"

"About a week before this all started." She said.

"How is she?"

"Unhappy, I think, but well enough in general."

Ramza sighed.

"I wish I could see her." His voice was quiet.

"Why can't you?" Ovelia asked.

"It's complicated... and it's personal... between me and my brothers. There are things that I don't think Alma must know. Things that, unless I can give her a place to live away from our brothers, she's probably better not knowing... She wouldn't want to be there any more than I do, if she knew... Or maybe she does know and that's why she's unhappy...

"Besides, there's _this_ whole mess now. Even if I just went home for a flying visit, I couldn't avoid Dycedarg knowing of it, and if he caught me... let's just say that, even if he thinks I'm still the child he last knew me as, I don't think he'd consider my not letting him know your whereabouts to be a 'sent to bed without your supper' offence. There are functional prison cells below Duke Larg's castle, at Eagrose. If I still didn't tell him what he wanted to know after a few days down there... well, all Alma would need to be told is that I had 'disappeared' again, I'm sure." His voice was cold and bleak.

"You believe your own brother would do that to you?" She asked, not having missed the bitterness in his tone whenever he mentioned his brothers throughout the conversation, even before that last statement. There was a long pause.

"Yes." Was his only reply and he would not be drawn further. If Dycedarg and Zalbaag could order Tietra's death, he doubted Dycedarg would have a problem 'removing' a brother who had become such a liability.

Ramza finished his job and then helped Ovelia coax the chick to take the greens from her, then he accompanied her back to the fire and began to help with the preparation of supper.

Agrias and Lavian had set up the tents quite quickly and Agrias had begun to boil water to make tea. It was a luxury that they'd only had since Zaland, and Ramza imagined they wouldn't have had tea at all without the presence of the Princess – tea, grown half a world away, was ridiculously expensive, he'd discovered. He'd been unable to justify buying it for himself since he'd left Eagrose behind him.

Alicia and Lavian, having finished their part of making camp and preparing a meal had settled down to talk to Ladd and try to take his mind off his predicament – with mixed success, he still seemed pale and distracted. That had left Mustadio, working at the fire, at Agrias' mercy until Ramza and Ovelia arrived.

It had become almost a ritual that, at some point during each evening, Agrias would begin to ask Ramza about himself but, unless he was distracted, he usually managed to deflect the queries, giving vague answers. With her usual target absent, she'd apparently started on Mustadio, though perhaps, this time, it wasn't without justification, after the ambush that afternoon.

"I'm trying to be understanding, but I find I keep asking myself how we can trust you, if you won't tell us what this Baert thing is all about." Ramza heard Agrias say to Mustadio as he approached them. Though her voice was not entirely unkind, her tone was tinged with exasperation. She threw a few branches on the fire, then settled down next to it, checking whether the tea-water was boiling before looking at Mustadio questioningly, as he sat near her, a mug of beer in his hand.

"I have _explained_. It isn't that I don't _want_ to tell you; I can't tell anyone. Keeping quiet is all I have to guarantee my father's safety. Ramza, I know you said you're an orphan, but I've heard you mention your sister with great affection – wouldn't you do the same for her as I'm doing for my father? Even if it meant that the people you really _really_ wanted to trust you felt that they couldn't." Mustadio sounded incredibly frustrated with the whole situation.

"Yes, in a heartbeat. My sister's the most important thing in the world to me, now." Ramza said quietly, pointedly not looking at Ovelia, who had settled herself across the fire from him. He found a small knife and settled down to peeling potatoes, the only thing that seemed not to have been completed from the supper preparations.

"And I'd do the same for any of my family." Agrias reluctantly admitted, with a heavy sigh. "All right. Well, we're only half a day from Lionel. We'll just have to see what the Cardinal can do for you."

"I hope he can do something, I really do. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm really frightened about what could be happening to my dad." Mustadio wrung his hands for a moment.

"How did you end up in Zaland, anyway? You said you were in Goug with him, when your father was taken." Agrias asked. There was a long pause, probably while Mustadio tried to work out exactly what he would tell her.

"About two weeks ago, Dad and I were alone in his main workshop in the evening. Normally we'd have at least one of the apprentices with us, but they'd all been working hard for the last few days, so dad had given them a half-holiday. An almighty thumping suddenly came from upstairs and then a crash. Dad insisted that I had to had to get out, had to run, had to take... I said I couldn't leave him and tried to get him to come with me. He can't run, though, he's lame; an old injury he got when he took a bad fall in the tunnels under Goug, but he made me... _ordered _me to do it_. _He told me I had to get to Cardinal Delacroix and ask for help, if I could.

"Baert arrived with two of his hulking great thugs and, like a coward, I did what I had been told and ran. I didn't even _try_ to fight." He hung his head for a moment, clearly ashamed. When he raised his head again his face was bleak.

"I tried to do as my dad suggested, but when I got to Lionel, I discovered that it's impossible to get to see the Cardinal, if you're someone like me, anyway. When I tried to request an audience, I couldn't tell the man I spoke to what it was about, any more than I can tell you. In the end, he laughed and asked me who I thought I was – said that even if I'd been prepared to give my reasons, that Cardinals do not give private audiences to young, unimportant, journeyman machinists, no matter what!" His voice was bitter.

Agrias looked sympathetic, but Ramza just studied his hands, as they continued their peeling, for a few moments, then he spoke quietly, as if to himself.

"Delita's right - we're all just human beings. How can it be right that I could use my family name to let me walk straight into the Cardinal's Palace, gain an immediate audience, even on a trivial matter, and Mustadio can't even do it to save his father's life?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, you can't say things like that and _not_ expect me to ask you what your family name is! I know it can't really be Lugria, when you make statements like that!" Agrias burst out irritably. Ramza continued to study his hands, wishing the princess to damnation for bringing his name and his family to the forefront of his mind.

"It _is_ Lugria. If I ever had another, it's of no import. I'm no longer that person. I can't ever be again." He said, in a quiet monotone. Agrias looked daggers at him for a moment.

"... ugh..." She jumped up, drew her sword, gestured, and several boulder-sized chunks of ice dropped from above a nearly elm, encasing it for a moment, then shattering, splintering the top half of the tree as it did. As the upper branches hit the ground with a crash, Ramza's paring knife dropped, unregarded, from boneless fingers.

"Who's the suicidal one, this evening?" Mustadio asked Ramza in a mutter, a worried half-smile on his face. Watching Agrias warily, he stood up and stretched, then went to get himself another beer, saying something about not having to worry about enough firewood for tonight, at least.

"Do you know how frustrating the pair of you are?" She asked composedly, reseating herself and beginning to make tea; apparently much calmer after that little act of destruction.

"No, but the tree does." Ramza said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"And I just hate to leave any woman feeling _frustrated_." Mustadio said as he came back over, an enormous, slightly lascivious grin spreading across his face. "How about, later, you let me show you just how I could alleviate those feelings?"

Agrias came back to her feet, levelling her sword at him, the tip only a few inches from the centre of his chest. Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing, letting her body language convey what she wanted to communicate. Ramza thought... hoped, that that was merely for effect. Lady Agrias had a hitherto unsuspected streak of theatricality, as the fate of the tree had shown. He glanced at Ovelia and wasn't sure whether or not to be reassured by the mixture of amusement and bemusement on her face as she watched the momentarily frozen tableau with interest.

Mustadio, though, was clearly taking no chances.

"I think I'll just be... _not here anymore_." He said, dashing over towards Boco and Tyche, on the far side of the camp.

_Actually, Mustadio, you still take the laurels for suicidal stupidity around the lady._ Ramza thought. Recovering his knife, carefully wiping it, then going back to peeling potatoes, he wondered idly if Mustadio really did have an interest in Lady Agrias, or if he just said things like that to wind her up.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I don't like my own passing implication that all Mustadio's mother was good for was cooking etc. However, it is a pseudo-medieval setting and (in my head) the woman _was_ a housewife.

Ugh, this one is/was a mess. For some reason I originally wrote this one and the last one the wrong way around. (For those of you who read the afterword to the Chapter 1 Vignettes, we're still in those scenes that were already written months ago, which I'm tidying up before posting them. That should be easier than writing from scratch, right? Not in this case!)

For some reason, I thought that the scene where Ovelia and Ramza whistle on grass (or leaves, since they pick them off a tree?) was just before they arrived at Lionel. The scene connected to the grass whistling was kept, more of less, intact and just moved forward. However, it made complete nonsense of this one. (Plus, I liked the timing of that conversation between Ramza and Agrias on watch, in the last one, better when it was immediately before their arrival in Lionel, but that's by the by.)

So this one was chopped up, rehashed and drastically both cut and added to – It would've been easier writing a brand new one, I suspect. Ovelia never told Ramza she'd sussed out who he was, originally (though she had still worked it out) and that will probably mean me making a few subtle changes in the next couple (the last left of the ones that are pre-written). Agrias' conversation with Mustadio and Ramza, at the end, was going to be the only bit left untouched.

_However_, I've recently found a useful transcription of the game's script on gamefaqs, which I've been using to check bits and pieces. So, I'd written a version of Mustadio's story of what happened in Goug with his dad and Baert totally from my own head, but I discovered a whole 'secret' flashback scene that can only be accessed through the Chronicles section of the menu (it's called 'Seekers of the Stone'). It appears after you've left Agrias and Ovelia behind in Lionel (with no indication that it has appeared), and shows what actually happens when Baert and his men arrive at the Bunansas' to steal their stone... Which meant I had to change Mustadio's story about what happened when his dad was taken, to fit that scene. Which, in turn, meant other small changes to get everything else to fit with that.

Sooo, all in all, this one has brought me very close to literally tearing my hair out!


	10. 10 - R&R

So after a longer than normal time between the last two, I thought I'd get this one posted quickly, since it's ready.

* * *

**Vignette 10 – R&amp;R**

_The Cardinal's Palace, Lionel, Late-Afternoon_

A couple of hours after their meeting with the Cardinal ended, the three men got back to the palace, clanking as they walked, due to all of the new and improved armaments Ramza had purchased with some of the money the princess had insisted on paying him and Ladd. Of course, she'd had to first 'borrow' it from the Cardinal.

The most opulent door in the opulent guest quarters of the opulent palace opened as they passed and Alicia's head appeared.

"The Princess wants to see you three."

"Immediately? Or can she wait until we rid ourselves of all our purchases?" Ramza asked.

"She's a princess, what do _you_ think you ought to do?" Alicia grinned at them.

They clanked in. The magnificently dressed princess looked as if she would almost clap her hands in relieved delight when she saw them.

"Thank goodness! The Cardinal is hosting a banquet tonight and has invited me to join him and I have to go in about ten minutes. I was so worried that I wouldn't get to see you and say goodbye, since I know you'll be leaving terribly early tomorrow and I don't know how long I'll be expected to stay with the Cardinal. But he _is_ an old dear. He's already assigned me half a dozen men to supplement my personal guard and so I've told Agrias that she has to take tonight off and spend it with all of you, rather than guarding me."

A mixed blessing, that, Ramza thought; Lady Agrias would _not_ take well to that order, irritable probably wouldn't be the half of it.

"I would have liked to have bought you gifts, but there just hasn't been time, so the best I could do is order a feast to be served here in my chambers tonight to celebrate us all arriving safely. I just wish I could join you." That last was a little wistful. "Thank you for all your help!" Then she kissed each of the men on the cheek and whisked away into her bedroom.

Alicia giggled at the undisguised shock that being kissed by the Princess had left on all three faces.

"She means it. She's asked for only the best foods and wines, and who is going to argue with the princess? Should be a good dinner. Go and bathe; for once, it would be nice if you three didn't smell like sweat and armour polish," she grinned at Ladd and Ramza, then at Mustadio, "or gun oil." She added.

They trooped out to follow orders.

Ladd grinned and nudged Mustadio when he noticed Ramza surreptitiously sniffing at his own shoulder as they wandered back to the suite of rooms that the three were sharing.

"Don't worry, laddie, you only stink _really_ badly when you've been fighting or training hard. Most of the rest of the time it's almost bearable." Ladd said, suppressing a laugh.

"Well it's not as if we could have ordered hot baths every day, travelling as we have been!" Ramza said, almost plaintively.

The other two began to laugh in earnest. Ramza looked from one to the other, then just shook his head in exasperation.

* * *

When they got back to the Princess' large, elegant main chamber, a couple of hours later, the three women were already amusing themselves. Lady Agrias must have sent down to the town for a broadsheet to read, to get some of the latest news. What amazed the men was seeing her lounging sideways in a large wing chair with her legs casually thrown across one of the arms as she read. She raised a languid hand and waved at the three, all the while continuing her reading.

Lavian and Alicia were playing a noisy card game at the other end of the room, which apparently involved calling out what seemed like random nonsense and slapping their hands down on the table periodically - Ramza couldn't work out what the game was. Ladd and Mustadio went over to join them. Ramza, on the other hand, went straight to the beautifully decorated clavichord that he had noted covetously, during their earlier visit.

He sat in front of it and listened to the murmur of conversation at the nearby card table for a moment.

"... thought she'd be apoplectic." Ladd was saying softly.

"She was at first, then after about half an hour of argument she suddenly just shrugged and said that none of us had had an instant off duty for ten days and if the princess was going to insist, she'd stop disputing the point. She said that if we were going to trust the princess' safety to the Cardinal, then she'd have to let his people guard her at some time, so why not start as she'd be forced to go on? Then she seemed to just go back to her old self - the one we're used to, not the uptight snappish _bitch_" that last word was spoken emphatically, but so quietly that Ramza could barely hear it, "that she's been since we left Orbonne." Alicia said.

"I don't blame her for being wound up, I'd probably be just as bad in her place, but she hasn't exactly been easy to live with, has she?" That was the last thing he heard from Alicia as he opened the lid of the instrument.

He put his fingers on the keys and very gently played a few scales and arpeggios to check its tuning. It had superb tone. Still quietly, his fingers automatically fell into an arduously complex study that his father had sent him to practise over and over again as a punishment, whenever he was naughty, the Spring and Summer he turned twelve, until he had perfected and memorised it.

Even though they were punished a lot less than he, it had only taken Alma and Tietra a few short weeks to learn to play this piece. Ramza had taken almost half a year to have it completely memorised; he'd never been a gifted musician. Yet, there was a perverse pleasure in still being able to produce such as complex piece from memory, even if many of the associations saddened him. He shut his eyes as he continued to play.

Delita hadn't been very interested in music. He liked to listen and he could reluctantly be made to sing – he had a rather pleasant baritone, after his voice had finished breaking – but other than that, he wanted nothing to do with the others' music learning. Hence he'd spent as much time, if not more, mucking out the chocobos, by way of punishment, as Ramza had tied to the keyboard. Neither had exactly been model children!

Out of Alma and Tietra, Alma had probably been the slightly more talented musician, while Tietra had had more patience and diligence, so both had become excellent on keyboard, harp and lute, over the years. As they got older and they first went away to live at a convent, then after coming home, spent much of their time out at school, they had given impromptu recitals for the family when they were at home.

Such a deceptively ladylike pair, he thought with a smile, remembering what a pair of hoydens they could occasionally be, especially Alma. His smile faded, Alma must be almost finished with school now and Tietra... she never would finish.

"Come on, now, my fine minstrel. Supper's here." Alicia's voice broke in on him. "Now that we've discovered your talent, though, you can play us something a bit more lively afterwards. Something we can dance to, perhaps?" Ramza's eyes flew open and he blinked owlishly at her, coming back to the present.

* * *

Ramza wasn't actually much of a sight-reader, when it came to the keyboard. He'd have done a little better with a lute but, after dinner, he muddled through the well-copied country dance scores that were provided, with only a couple of missed notes per tune. Then Alicia suddenly decided it was his turn to dance, saying she'd take a turn at the keyboard. Ramza looked horrified.

"No, no. I only know courtly dances anyway. I don't know how to dance these. Besides, I haven't played in over a year and I'm enjoying it." Not strictly true, he'd be happy to take a break, but when compared to dancing? Oh, yes, he was definitely enjoying it!

"Court dancing?" Agrias asked, putting her hands on her hips, suddenly back to the woman he'd come to know and... tread very carefully around.

"Yes, you know, Pavane, Galliard, Volta..." His voice slowed as his brain caught up with it. He watched her warily.

"Are you deliberately trying to annoy me by being all mysterious about your background... _again_?"

Ramza winced.

"No. I didn't mean... things just slip out."

"I'm curious." She said and he sighed, expecting an interrogation. "Can you really dance the Volta?"

"Yes... well... I _can, _but I've only ever danced it in practise, at home, with my sister or Tietra." That was _not_ the question he'd expected.

"Remember the steps?"

"To dance it with _you_? Er... my lady, _really_?" Oops! That had sounded about as doubtful as he felt about this, she'd not take that well...

"What's the problem? Do you think I'm too heavy to lift, even _without_ my armour?" He quickly shook his head, but made no move towards her to begin the dance.

"Are we going to dance, or would you rather I went and got my sword?" She said with an odd grin that was far from reassuring.

Ramza actually gave these two options some thought. Volta with this woman, in front of a small audience, or get Judgement Bladed... hmm.

"Lady Alicia, I think I saw some Galliard music near the bottom of the pile, that'd do for a Volta, at a pinch." He said and held out his hand to Lady Agrias to lead her to the centre of the space they had cleared for dancing. The look on her face was a clear challenge.

Ramza was athletic and coordinated - so much combat training and practise had seen to that - but he did feel foolish as he hopped and skipped his way through the first measures of the dance. Then came the section he _really_ hadn't wanted to do in front of them all, especially with this woman. They came together, she placed a hand on his shoulder and he grasped her around the waist, with a strong jump from her, he used one thigh under both of hers to propel her high into the air and made a three quarter turn on the spot. Several times turning one way, several times the other, back to the prancing-about part, then another round of lifts and turns. They separated and bowed and curtseyed and she eyed him almost... sheepishly.

"Another test, my lady?" He asked, folding his arms and giving her a similar challenging look to the one she'd used on him, earlier.

"Maybe a little, but also, I've always liked that dance and that was fun. Thank-you." With a grin, she curtseyed again, which he thought looked a little odd in a woman who didn't have skirts to hold out as she did it. He bowed in return.

"You know, you're lucky, my lady, last time I practised that, I was partnering my sister and I dropped her. She sprained her ankle so badly that she couldn't walk for a week." Agrias just raised a brow at him.

"So... I heard that that was a risqué dance." Mustadio said as Ramza came to sit near him. "I thought that there was going to be some seriously improper goings on, but all you do is pick her up and toss her up in the air a bit. I have to say, I was a bit taken aback when she asked you to dance it with her; for a moment, there, I thought she was making advances."

"For a terrifyingly surreal moment, so did I. Then I realised it was just a way to see if I had really caught myself out, _again_, or if I kept trying to make out that I was someone a lot more important than I really am."

"So which is it?"

"The former, of course – it really is only highest nobility who dance the Volta - those who attend the Royal Court; that's why she picked that one, I suspect." He went on rapidly, yet again inwardly cursing his wayward tongue. "I keep trying to leave my old life behind, but... well... it's part of me. I can't not have learned the court dances any more than I can not have learned the musical instruments or... not have picked up a little about political one-upmanship. Now I just need to learn not to thoughtlessly open my mouth about it, that's all.

"Oh... and think about it for a moment, and you'll realise that, in the middle of a crowded ballroom, shielded from view by other couples, that dance _can _be a lot more risqué." Mustadio looked thoughtful at that.

"Ah, yes, I think I begin to see..."

Ramza nodded at him with an oddly wistful little smile.

"Yeah. The first time I ever kissed a girl was as I was finishing that dance. Of course, it wasn't much of a kiss; I was only twelve. We'd sneaked down to watch the dancing at my brother's birthday ball, so the four of us decided to try to ape the adults' dancing, which, in my case, also mimicked the... less conventional moves. As it was my best friend's sister I kissed, and he threatened to hit me, I never did get to try it again, but I can see the potential. Only... _not_ with Lady Agrias!"

"Really? I think she has a _lot_ of potential for stolen kisses and the like." Mustadio grinned as he watched the lady in question turn a page of music for Alicia, as Lavian and Ladd had a rather disastrous try at the Volta.

"You know, I think it's just as well we're leaving first thing in the morning. I know you keep laughing at Ladd and I when we call you suicidal but you _do_ need to be more careful around her." He broke off. "Lady Lavian, you're doing fairly well, but once you spring up, you have to just hold yourself straight and trust him to make the lift without further interference." He turned back to Mustadio. "What was I saying?"

"I think you were just about to warn me, yet again, that she'll 'Cleansing Strike the arse off me'? She hasn't done it _yet_."

"No, just threatened you with it on multiple occasions. And she did Judgement Blade a tree when she was feeling irritable with the two of us. You think that won't be you if you _truly_ annoy her?"

"You're _that_ timid about her? Surely not?" Mustadio grinned.

"She scares the hell out of me!" Ramza gave a rueful smile, but it was clear he was more than half-serious.

"Even though she keeps proving just how much worse her bark is than her bite?"

Ramza thought about that and decided Mustadio was probably right, as he had been in the last few days about other members of the group. The machinist was surprisingly perceptive about people, on the quiet.

Ramza moved back to the clavichord, as the dance finished. He spent the rest of the evening playing whatever was requested - much safer!

* * *

**Author's Note**

I know they're at Lionel, which means they've just seen Auracite for the first time. However, right now, I'm assuming that they mostly have Agrias' attitude (when she speaks to Delacroix) about the legends surrounding the crystals being 'fanciful tales'. Mostly, as you've probably gathered I prefer the political intrigue to the bloody magic rocks, so partly I'm just avoiding the topic as long as possible. However, there is a better reason than that; if they all discount the stories it makes the whole 'Lucavi are real' revelation a whole lot more shocking later on.

I hope it doesn't seem weird that Ramza, jack-of-all-trades fighter, could also be fairly musical. If you like music and there's no radio, CDs, MP3s etc. what can you do but learn to play an instrument or two yourself? That way you can get to hear music whenever you want, as long as you have an instrument to hand.

So that almost concludes the pre-written section of Chapter 2. It was at this point, writing Ramza's reflection on Alma, Delita and Tietra, while he plays the clavichord, that first led me to think about writing the Chapter 1 stuff. The next one is also done, and we're going back to a split PoV for a while – first Ramza et al, then Agrias and/or Ovelia.

* * *

**Historical Trivia:**

The dances mentioned are all real ones, roughly Elizabethan in origin (and I've just screamed out, yet again, that I'm an insular Brit – sixteenth century European in origin, then) and the Volta really was seen as a bit risqué.

Clavichords were a forerunner to harpsichords (they're the oldest known keyboard instrument, in fact, hence they're the ultimate ancestor of the modern piano), so they're also in keeping with the Renaissance dances. They're much smaller and, to my ear, have a more mellow sound than a harpsichord, but they're very quiet, in comparison.


	11. 11 - Other People's War Stories

**A response to ****Seiuchi's review** (since I can't send a PM to a guest login): I can see exactly why it might be difficult to see how forward-Mustadio fits with his Tynar Rouge persona, and it's something I have thought about, already. I didn't want the fact that he fancies Agrias rotten to come out of the blue and I've tried to shy away from some of the fanon stereotypes with the characters, which meant I didn't want Mustadio to seem bumbling and poorly socialised. However, I think I can pull off forward-Mustadio still working fairly believably in the Tynar Rouge scene, since there will be several things happen which knock his confidence, when it comes to a possible relationship with Agrias, before then. If, when the time comes, you don't think I made it work, then please, feel free to flame me as vitriolically as you like!

* * *

**Vignette 11 – Other Peoples' War-Stories**

_The Eastern Edge of the Tchigolith Fenlands, Late Afternoon_

"I wish there was another way through, but unless we want to add an extra two days to the journey, we'll just have to cross it, like I did on my way here. The Fifty Years War left so many men dead in the fens that it turned into a poisonous swamp, contaminated by the rotting bodies. Worse, though, their spirits rise as skeletons, ghouls and the like and you can end up being chased for miles, as I did when I was on my own." Mustadio said.

"With five of us, I think we'll be better off just stopping to fight, whenever we need to, tomorrow." Ramza shaded his eyes and stared towards the toxic bog, that began less than two miles hence. Apparently, the many and various undead it produced stayed within its bounds. He hoped that was correct – he didn't want to have to fight a hoard of them later, especially after dark.

It was still light, but not even Mustadio, who was clearly itching to press on, now that they were only a day or so from his home and his father, would have suggested that they move into the swamps and leave themselves exposed there at night. So, instead, they had stopped early and he, Ramza and Alicia had prepared a dinner that could cook slowly and was now starting to smell very appetising, while Lavian and Ladd set up camp.

Ramza was still looking towards the swamp as he spoke again.

"My father talked about the battles that took place here forty years ago. He said that he felt that Ordallia probably had _some_ right to the disputed borderlands on the Eastern edge of Zeltennia and Limberry, considering how often those strips of land have changed possession, in the last few centuries, but that once they tried to invade Lionel province, they declared that this was going to be a real war, after more than a decade of petty border skirmishes.

"He was posted here just after being given his first Command, back then, and he said it very quickly woke him to the realities of war. The slaughter was apparently horrific, so much so, that no-one could have dealt with all of the bodies before they sunk right into the peat bogs. He always made it sound horrendous." Ramza said in a slightly dismal tone.

At this, Agrias, had she been with them, would have been confounded in her pet theory that Ramza was actually Dycedarg Beoulve's illegitimate son. The major battles in this part of the world had taken place a year or two before Lord Dycedarg's own birth. However, with the group as they were currently constituted, no-one found what this implied about the age of Ramza's father particularly enlightening or interesting.

"I don't like fighting the undead." Ladd said, sounding uncharacteristically morose. "You end up getting a nasty shock when the bonesnatch you "killed" five minutes ago suddenly punches you in the kidney from behind when, by rights, the damned thing should be a crystal on the ground."

Lavian looked at Alicia and rolled her eyes. That managed to accurately convey that she was unimpressed with the topic of conversation. Before Alicia, always the more forthright of the two, could speak up, Ladd went on:

"Talking of crystals, how come the bodies here rotted and didn't crystallise, anyway? I thought people who died violent deaths always crystallised."

"I asked my dad about that a few years back. He said it was to do with these being peat bogs and the special properties that peat gives to the water. Anyone who fell on dry land _did_ crystallise, but there's precious little of that in the fens." Mustadio replied. Alicia opened her mouth again, but this time Ramza inadvertently interrupted.

"Choosing to fight major battles on marshy ground seems like very poor strategic planning, to me. I never did think to ask my father which side forced it to happen here – he died before I took an interest in that aspect of things." Ramza said.

"I believe that the Ordallians thought it was just a narrow strip of marshy ground when they began to cross from Goug to Lionel, but it ended with them lost and literally "bogged down". It allowed our side to surround their army and slaughter them." Mustadio said.

"Well, I'm fed up with all this talk of war, slaughter and the undead. I'm going to fill all of our canteens, since it sounds like there won't be any fresh water to find tomorrow." Alicia's voice was tart and her manner a little cold as she got to her feet and collected canteens and water skins from them all. The men looked at her retreating back in confused consternation.

"This topic _is_ a bit depressing, you know. Also, I can bore people with war-stories, just like any soldier, but mostly you lot aren't even telling your own war-stories, which makes them doubly boring! Besides, I don't know that Alicia's ever faced undead before; she's probably feeling a little nervous about tomorrow. Put all of that together, and I think she's more than a little on edge." Lavian explained to them.

That had been a long speech, coming from Lavian, but, having said her piece, she apparently didn't feel the need to say any more, even though the men looked at her and one another uncomfortably.

After a couple of minutes, Alicia returned. Ramza thought that perhaps he should apologise to her, but after a moment's thought decided to just quietly let the topic of 'war, slaughter and the undead' quietly drop.

"Does anyone else find it odd that we never saw any sign of the men the Cardinal was sending, on the road today?" She asked as she sat down next to Ramza. Her good temper was apparently restored, because she smiled at him, though her eyes seemed worried.

"They'll be going by way of the coast road, I imagine." Ramza said, without anxiety.

"Yes, but it's all the same road at first. We turned off it at about noon. Shouldn't we have seen them before that?" She asked.

"It's probably nothing," Ramza said, "you know what the military are like. The Cardinal didn't agree to send them until late afternoon yesterday. By the time orders filtered down, there was probably still one hundred and one things to do this morning to ready a company to march."

"That's just it, they weren't going to be marching; the Cardinal said he'd send them by chocobo to get there quickly, right? Even if they were a couple of hours behind us in leaving, they should have caught us up before we turned off, shouldn't they?" Alicia asked.

Ramza was a little worried, now - he had forgotten what the Cardinal had said about mounting the men he sent. His gaze flickered to Mustadio, however, as Ramza didn't want to give him anything more to worry over than he already had for his father, so when he replied, he downplayed his own anxiety and tried to be reassuring.

"I can see you're worried, Ramza, but I'm willing to trust the Cardinal - my dad always says he's a man of honour." Mustadio said in response. "Besides, even if the soldiers don't show up, I have you four, which is four better than the last time I came up against Baert's people in Goug, and we've dealt fine with the bands he's sent after me so far."

Ramza felt more than a little nervous. Baert had been able to send at least two bands of well-trained, well-equipped fighters to hunt Mustadio already. If that was what they could afford to send after one young man, how much manpower and resources did they have in their home city? He didn't like the odds, especially as they were now, arguably, lacking the person who had been their strongest fighter, in the Lady Agrias. And the Cardinal... in his experience, people, whom others claimed were 'men of honour', seldom lived up to that reputation.

His thoughts shifted inevitably to his brothers, and he decided to do something practical to take his mind off them. He suddenly clapped his hands to get everyone's attention, then felt infinitely stupid – like he was playing at being one of the instructors from his days at the Akademy. Nevertheless, he ploughed on, nodding at Lavian and Alicia.

"Lady Agrias said I was to train you and there's still enough light for some practise tonight. Ladd, you get to join in because you wanted me in charge and I'm just that much of a slave driver!

"So, you see the large knot-hole on the side of that sycamore? Use that for a target and you and Lady Alicia can try out some archery - you've both mastered the basic technique, so now's the time to improve your aim at greater distances. Start thirty paces away and keep firing until you're getting at least two in three arrows right into the knot-hole, then move back another five paces and do it again. Keep going until it gets too dark to aim or until your arm and shoulder are aching too much to fire efficiently.

"I'm going to work with Lady Lavian on improving her white magic - another person who knows Raise could, literally, be a life-saver if we get into conflict in Goug."

"What about me?" Mustadio asked, a quizzical smile on his face.

"You're currently our employer, remember? You get to choose what to do and when to do it." Ramza said with a grin that was slightly forced; he wasn't comfortable being back in command. However, when he'd tried to defer to Lavian, that morning, she had told him that she and Alicia had been given orders to augment _his_ little team, this time, not the other way around. Lady Agrias had, apparently, been very clear about who was to lead, which seemed bloody odd to Ramza.

"A bunch of aristocrats at my beck and call, now there's something I'd never have thought I'd live to see!" Mustadio laughed, then said.

"Training sounds good. It'll help me take my mind off things. Target practise, huh?"

He was at least eighty yards from the tree Ramza had designated as the target and, thankfully, at an angle to the two archers. He nonchalantly raised his pistol and shot the knot-hole, almost dead centre.

"Looks like if you want some real challenge for your target practise we're going to have to find you some smaller targets." Ramza said, a note of consideration in his voice.

"Maybe I could go and ask Ladd to show me how best to throw a Phoenix Down and a Hi-Potion accurately while Alicia shoots. I'd like to be more useful in any fight we get into tomorrow, and being able to still use my gun, but also being able to heal and resurrect at the same time seems like a good plan."

"Better yet," Lavian said, "If you've got a decent supply of them, and I think we do, just chuck a Phoenix Down at an undead – instant kill!"

"Really?" Mustadio asked, looking oddly disappointed. "Damn it! Dad and I spent _ages_ working on those special bullets, infused with holy water, that turn them to stone. _And_ those aren't as accurate as normal ones. I wish someone had told me about Phoenix Downs sooner!"

"The bullets are still very useful – you can turn them to stone at twice the distance that you'd have a hope of landing a Phoenix Down, after all." Ramza said consolingly.

"Yeah. I suppose so." Mustadio said, still sounding uncharacteristically disgruntled.

* * *

_The Cardinal's Palace's, Late Afternoon_

"I wish we could have gone to Goug with the others." Ovelia said, tossing down the broadsheet that Agrias had sent to town for, the evening before. "I'm sooo bored!"

As grateful as Agrias was that she now had the Princess safe and well-protected, she found it hard to disagree.

"Considering what they'll be doing, I doubt they'll be having a jolly, fun time of it... I thought you said you might write to a friend?" Agrias said, hiding her slight irritation at the interruption.

"I've thought better of it, in the circumstances..." Agrias laid down the scroll she had been reading, in her lap.

"What circumstances, your... Ovelia?" Agrias frowned at the scroll, before looking up and frowning at the princess.

"It was Alma Beoulve I was thinking of writing to." Ovelia said quietly. Agrias froze, putting her hand to her forehead and just staring at the girl.

"You even _considered_ it? Knowing how deeply her eldest brother must be involved in all this?" Agrias said, incredulous. _Maybe her middle brother too, though I hope not._

Agrias knew she was far from the world's best guardswoman, who would have simply said something like 'I think that was the wisest decision, Highness' in a calm, accepting tone, when informed by her royal charge that she had just decided not to do something almost unbelievably stupid.

"Yes, firstly because she _is_ my friend and when she hears I was kidnapped she'll be worried, so I thought to let her know I'm safe. Secondly, because of something I am just dying to tell her."

"What?" Agrias asked idly, as she unconsciously shifted her hands in her lap, knocking the parchment to the floor. She got up and bent to retrieve it.

"It's a secret, but not mine, so I don't think I ought to tell you." Ovelia said, biting her lip, glad to be saying that to her Guard Captain's back, not her face; she was sure she must have blushed - she always did when she was doing something wrong, and Agrias knew it. Knowing who Ramza was could have had implications for her security, so she really should have told Agrias her suspicions, even before she confirmed them with him. She didn't see how it could affect anything now, though.

Agrias regarded the princess over her shoulder as she straightened up, one eyebrow raised.

"Far be it from me to dictate to you what you must and mustn't tell me, Princess Ovelia, but you wouldn't hold anything back from me that might have an impact on your security, would you?" She said as she reseated herself.

_Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush._

"No. I'm pretty sure that this has nothing to do with that." No, Ramza _had_ already proved he wasn't any threat and she'd promised not to tell.

But he also had been missing from home for over a year and he'd said _he_ wouldn't write yet. She hadn't ever been completely serious about writing that letter, but poor Alma, if only she could let her know, somehow, that he was...

"_Pretty _sure?_"_ Agrias said, not hiding her irritation this time.

"It's nothing that can harm me, now, I promise." Ovelia said, firmly. Agrias scowled at her for a moment, so Ovelia gestured towards the tatty-looking scroll and asked.

"What is it you were doing?"

"I borrowed some of his duplicate white magick scrolls from Ramza. I decided to broaden my skills a bit."

Having finally come to the conclusion that, like the others, she needed to widen her repertoire a little, she was trying to memorise the incantations for a couple of new spells. Much to her chagrin, her innate skill as a Holy Knight could only be taken so far, since somehow it relied, in part, on raw physical power, and she didn't seem to build muscle easily. Since she naturally seemed stronger magically than physically, no matter what she did, she had finally decided to play to that strength and learn some more magic, as a secondary skill. She already knew Cure, Cura and Protect, so learning Raise and Shell would round out her selection of spells nicely.

"Ramza somehow seems to inspire everyone around him to do that, doesn't he? Natural leadership talent, I suppose. I wonder if it's a family trait?" Ovelia said in her most innocent-sounding voice.

Agrias narrowed her eyes at the girl, who had disappeared back behind her broadsheet remarkable quickly after that comment. She tried to determine if Ovelia's tone was genuine. It had almost sounded like an undercurrent of suppressed laughter was threaded through her voice, as she had said that... but that might be nothing. Besides, what did it matter now? Chances were, she'd see Ramza and Ladd only once more, and briefly at that, when they returned to Lionel with Alicia and Lavian and she returned Ramza's scrolls.

After a few moments she just shrugged and glanced out of the window. It overlooked the cloister gardens and, after admiring the view for a moment, it registered just how low the sun was becoming in the sky. She checked the clock on the mantle.

"It's almost time for Vespers, Ovelia. Do you wish to attend?" She asked dutifully - even if the last thing that she, personally, wanted to do was sit through the second religious service of the day, the Princess would probably want to go, she always had at Orbonne. Back at Orbonne, Alicia was, most often, the one who went to the twice-daily services with the princess, and happily too; her family was particularly devout, unlike Agrias' or Lavian's. To Agrias' surprise, the, normally, pious Ovelia gave a huge sigh.

"I suppose we _ought_; though I imagine it will be every bit as boring as staying here!" Agrias raised an eyebrow at that, but refrained from commenting.

"Wait for a moment, then, while I go and see if those two guards on your outer door have managed to stay awake and are happy to accompany us; if you think your afternoon was dull, imagine theirs!"

* * *

**Author's Note**

So now you know, whatever it may have looked like, that bridge that Tietra's body was lying on was actually made of peat! _That's _why she didn't crystallise! Err... yeah; totally logical... honest!

The problem here, I guess, that after all the excitement of the previous week or two, Agrias and Ovelia are actually meant to be bored and going a bit stir-crazy, but it doesn't make for wildly entertaining writing.

The main squad will arrive in Goug, next chapter and Agrias will get to 'tell' a bit of her back-story (which she was going to do here, but it all got a bit too long).

This officially ends the fully pre-written section of the Vignettes. The Agrias/Ovelia part of the next one is more-or-less done, but the Goug part only partially. However, I think I know what I'm doing with it... Probably.


	12. 12 - Heart-sore and Desperately Unhappy

For once, in a split chapter, we're not starting with Ramza's side of things. Be warned, the best word for the mood of this one is probably 'sombre' - that's how it felt as I did a final proof-read after uploading it, anyway.

When you get down to basics, there are two types of these vignettes. The usual one is people yammering on nineteen-to-the-dozen at each other (occasionally doing some other stuff, but talking is usually the important part). This is (mostly) the other sort, the rambling internal reminiscent monologue, in order for me to tell back-story. (It reverts to the more usual style, with the main party reaching Goug late into the night).

* * *

**Vignette 12 – Heart-sore and Desperately Unhappy**

_The Cardinal's Palace, Early Evening_

Agrias had never liked living in houses of religion – not that she'd exactly lived in many, just Orbonne and now here. Lords above, but they were dull – no wonder Ovelia had expressed such reluctance to be cloistered again. The Princess also kept saying how bored she was, so Agrias knew it wasn't just her own impatient nature that led her to feel like that.

Earlier in the day, the two of them had headed to the palace's library, but she'd seen nothing except religious tracts and histories that pertained to religion. She liked history, it had always been one of her interests, but when she tried to skimming through a couple of them, she found them too dry, even for her. Ovelia had wandered from bookcase to bookcase but hadn't even taken anything down from them.

With so many knights around the place, she was really almost superfluous, as protection, she reflected. There was surely no way that Ovelia could be harmed – or abducted again – with this many armoured men and women standing about the Palace. There were archers and mages stationed around the outer walls too. She was thinking about that, as she followed the Princess to the bath house that evening, after Vespers, noting the half-dozen knights they passed as they walked along the two short corridors from their rooms.

She approved of the extra protection they afforded, of course, but it left her in something of a lady's companion role, more as company and entertainment for the Princess than a true bodyguard. And she wasn't stupid; she knew that as company and entertainment, she was sorely lacking - she was a blunt soldier and not always the most sociable of people.

Of course, most companions did not dress in plate armour or carry a heavy sword and shield, nor could they call down a Cleansing Strike. As the Princess undressed for bathing, Agrias checked the room for hidden entrances, then dragged a stool that had been in the corner over to the edge of the communal bath, so that her sword would remain in easy reach while she bathed, before undressing, herself.

As she sank into the warm water, she reflected morosely that she might as well revert to being a _normal_ woman, in a _dress_, if things stayed as quiet as today and yesterday...

Actually, there was something to be said for that idea. Objectively, she knew she was fairly attractive when she took pains, it might be nice to feel properly female again, just occasionally. She'd let that side of things slide after she'd been posted to Orbonne.

Of course, when she had been in overall charge of the security for Orbonne Monastery, she'd never thought like this. Her duty – the care and protection of the Princess – had been her all-in-all, though she hadn't wanted it, at first... Did she want it now?... Perhaps - she certainly wanted Ovelia safe.

She had arrived home from the war, tired and jaded, and she'd wanted to take a month or two off to spend with her family and to simply rest and regain a sense of equilibrium.

It wasn't only exhaustion that left her craving peace and quiet, though. The man who had been her closest friend since early childhood – Lavian's husband, Ivan - had died in the last weeks of the war. She'd done her best to comfort Lavian, but she'd been too grief-stricken herself to really say or do anything to help the other girl deal with her loss. Then, within days of that, the man she loved, and whom she had, stupidly, thought loved her, had told her that their nearly year-long relationship was over. So she'd returned to her father's estate, just outside the capital, heart-sore and desperately unhappy.

In her last visit home, between the final two campaign seasons of the war, when it was already obvious that the fighting would shortly be over, she'd agreed with her father that, if there was a prolonged period of peace, it would be good for her career to serve a couple of years in the Lionsguards. As he was the Lionsguards' Lieutenant Commander, it wouldn't be difficult for him to arrange that.

Unfortunately, her father had told her on the very day she got back, that he had already arranged a position for her. She hadn't been _too_ upset when she'd heard that - being a member of the Queen's Guard would mean that she would only have to nominally stay in barracks and could instead live at home on the family estate just outside of the capital. She'd easily be able to ride the five miles to the Palace for her shifts on duty, as her father did.

She'd come into brief contact with the Queen a couple of times, visiting her father at the Palace when he was on duty, and she hadn't much liked the woman, but she'd have been able to put up with that. She would only have had to make sure that the Queen stayed safe and well, after all, not become friends with her. So, even though it sounded like she wouldn't get the period of rest she had wanted, it had seemed like a reasonable idea – and maybe being busy would be better than moping at home.

Then her father had explained that she was to be the Captain of the Princess' Guard. That would be at Orbonne, four full days' travel from home and miles from _anywhere_. He'd also informed her that she'd have to move into the barracks at the back of the palace grounds for a few weeks, in order to learn protocol and procedure. As the current Guard Captain was leaving Orbonne to marry, in only six weeks time, Agrias' training would have to begin almost immediately.

So three days after her return to the family seat she moved back out again. She hadn't been happy, but she'd complied, like the dutiful daughter she was, trying, as always, to please her father, who was delighted that his Holy Knight daughter was available to take up a position of such prestige. When he spoke to her about it, he'd kept adding things like 'and you barely twenty'. In hindsight, she wondered if it had ever even occurred to him that at 'barely twenty' she might not have wanted such a huge responsibility.

About a fortnight before she had left the Front for the last time, she'd written to her father, on Lavian's behalf, explaining that Ivan had died and that he had left a young widow - a skilled knight - who said she would prefer to be gainfully employed, rather than spend her days as a dependent of her own or her late husband's family. Few women, even those who had attended one of the two Royal Military Akademies, chose to remain as knights – those who didn't branch off into magic, tended to choose to specialise in martial skills that relied less on large stature and brute strength. So Agrias had been confident that Lavian would find a place in the Lionsguards.

The only concession that her father had made, to try to reconcile her to the haste and remoteness of her new position, was to arrange to have Lavian assigned with her in that dull, out-of-the-way place. She apologised to Lavian about that as soon as the other girl had arrived at the monastery, a month after Agrias.

Much as she liked the Princess herself, even before Lavian arrived, she'd already had enough time to realise that the posting to Orbonne was not one to be in if you wanted a rich and varied life. Orbonne was pleasant but incredibly dull. She'd also realised why a position of such prestige had gone, unprotested, as far as she knew, to a newcomer to the Guard who must seem far too young and inexperienced for the post. Even if she was getting the position through a mixture of nepotism and the deference accorded to someone who could use sword techniques, she should never have been the first choice.

Captain of the Princess' Guard truly was a prestigious position - in theory - of course, and especially at such a young age, but she'd never been ambitious that way. As a Holy Knight, she'd inevitably had accelerated promotion in the army too, having been promoted to Major shortly before the end of the war – her third promotion in less than four years. 'Captain' in the Lionsguards was not the same as a regular army captaincy. In fact she was now, officially, the equivalent of a Lieutenant Colonel and that was a ridiculously high rank to have been given at twenty!

Why _did_ everyone assume that, because one had the natural gift of Holy Sword techniques, one was also a natural leader? Oh, she could lead, when she had to, and it had come to feel fairly natural, but it hadn't been what she had wanted two years ago, when she'd been sent to Orbonne; at that time she'd have been happier just taking commands, rather than giving them all.

Right up until the day that the Princess had been abducted, her responsibility had weighed upon her, though not so heavily that it usually felt like a strain. However, after that debacle, Agrias now questioned if she'd ever been at all effective in her role - after all, the kidnapping had been the serious threat to the Princess' security, that she'd had to deal with, and she'd failed miserably. She'd never considered having to deal with more than one threat at once. Especially with only a squad of four. She was actually glad that, since arriving here, while she had been consulted on the arrangements for Ovelia's safety, as a courtesy, that consultation was all it was. The Commander of the Griffin Knights was the one actually making the decisions.

The princess had been meant to have a squad of six Lionsguards assigned to her, but it had always been difficult to get the female guards to come to Orbonne. Lavian's arrival took the numbers back up to six, but three of the others had left over the next year. Alicia had joined them during that time, but after that it had never been more than four, including Agrias herself.

Agrias sighed and dunked her head, in preparation for washing her hair. It was no good dwelling on the past. Right here and now there were guards galore to ensure the princess' safety, but she had to remember that, since she couldn't be certain of their skill and commitment, she just had to keep focused on ensuring the princess' safety, herself. That meant she had to stop daydreaming and quickly get washed and back into her armour. She sighed, thinking that she half-wished she hadn't sent Lavian and Alicia away.

She suddenly realised that she had been silent and distracted for ages now and turned guiltily to the neglected Ovelia, that profound responsibility who she, nevertheless, had become extremely fond of. She found that the Princess, lathering her own hair, was looking at her quizzically, and so she apologised for ignoring her.

* * *

_Goug, Night_

By the time it was full-dark, Mustadio had said they were only about two hours from Goug, so with a three-quarter-full moon and a clear night, they'd had just enough light to push on and reach the city, even though Ramza had never liked the extra dangers travelling after dark exposed them to.

The five of them exhaustedly made it to a fairly large, comfortable-looking brick-built house in what, even in the dark, was clearly a pleasant, if unprepossessing, middle-class district of the city. Mustadio took them around to the back of the house and fished around in his pockets for a key, while also checking that the shutter over the large window was securely in place. He paused, key in hand, turning to the other four, he was looking uncharacteristically nervous - from what little Ramza could see with such limited light.

"I'm sorry - I know I've joked about having a bunch of aristocrats at my beck and call, but it's just occurred to me that this house must be very different to what you're all used to... I know I said I could put you all up, but the house isn't nearly as big as it looks; half of it is given over to work-rooms and the like, and it's just me and Dad and the apprentices, normally. There's just about enough beds but if... I won't be offended, if you'd rather stay at an inn; there are a couple of very decent ones in the city. I'll happily foot the bill, since..." Ramza interrupted, not liking to hear his friend belittle his own home.

"Frankly, Mustadio, the house looks very comfortable, and it's at least twice the size of my grandparents' place, where I spent practically half my childhood. Even if it weren't as comfortable as it looks, which I'm sure it is, I'm so tired, that by the time we've grabbed a bite to eat and we've discussed exactly what the plan for tomorrow is, all I'd need is a pallet on the floor in a corner somewhere." Ramza said as Mustadio unlocked the door. He glanced at the others, regretting that it was so dark, as he wanted his face to clearly show 'none of you had better contradict me on this!'

"I can, at least, do better than pallets." Mustadio said with a half-smile, holding the door open and ushering them into a large kitchen. "Just wait here. It was night as well, when I legged it, and all the shutters should be sealed, but I need to check before we start moving around the house. I don't think we want any light showing tonight. I've been gone long enough that I doubt they're bothering to watch the house, but just in case...

"You should find a couple of oil-lamps and a flint and firesteel on the mantle." He added from the doorway that led to the rest of the house. He moved into the hallway then, pulling his gun from its holster.

Rather than start with the flint and steel, Ramza had just finished intoning Fire to light one of the lamps, illuminating a large, well-appointed kitchen, when they heard a shot ring out from further into the house. All four of them raced towards the sound.

"... sake, Wilfrid, what the hell are you doing here?..." Hearing the clattering of four pairs of feet, he turned and called out "It's all right, nothing to worry about. It's just Wilfrid, my Dad's second apprentice, and I haven't hurt him, only Disabled him." He said, holstering his gun and gesturing at a boy of perhaps fifteen, who was holding a candle in a hand that still shook slightly.

"Gods, I'm really sorry for shooting you, Wil, I just didn't expect anyone to be here." Mustadio said, then suddenly looked stricken. "I'm sorry, I didn't think about your situation when I skipped town, either. I was just glad that that the three of you were at home with your families when Baert attacked. I never thought that you, at least, couldn't just stay at your Auntie's permanently, not with all those kids she already has to look after." He explained later that evening, to the others, that Wilfred was an orphan whose parents had died shortly after apprenticing him to Mustadio's father and his only living family was an Aunt and a shedload of cousins.

"Etgar and Paul at home with their families?" This enquiry about the other two apprentices only elicited a rapid nod, the boy still seeming overwhelmed at being shot, even if it had only incapacitated him. Mustadio's deep voice was very gentle and full of concern, when he next spoke.

"Being Arm Shot doesn't stop you being able to speak, you know, Wil. I really _am_ sorry, just tell me if you're all right?"

"Y-yes." The boy eventually said.

"Do you think you'd be up to running an errand, once you've had a couple of minutes sitting down for the Arm Shot to wear off?" Mustadio asked, ushering them all back to the kitchen. That received another shaky affirmative.

After his few minutes sit-down, Mustadio had given the boy a couple of hundred gil and sent him out to a local tavern that did good food with a large basket and instructions to ask them to fill it with food and bring it back.

Ramza had built and lit a fire in the grate, while Mustadio had been giving these instructions and, as he stood up, he looked over at the machinist, a serious expression on his face.

"You tend to shoot to incapacitate first, not to kill or injure, I've noticed, when it's humans we're fighting." He held up a hand. "That's not criticism, Mustadio, just an observation. I just need to know what you'll be doing tomorrow, for tactical purposes, if we're going up against Baert's men."

"Either... both. I can't afford to be merciful, if I want to get my dad out alive." Mustadio said.

"I'm not asking you to kill; no-one here relishes that, I can assure you." Ramza said, his expression grave.

When Mustadio replied to that, his words were slow, as if he was still considering things.

"Arm and Leg Shots are tricky. If I think I can make them, I will, since taking anyone straight out of the fight, for a while, makes it that much easier for us to tackle the rest of them. If I don't think I can pull one or the other off, though, I'll shoot to kill or injure, I can guarantee that!" His face and tone were harder than any of them usually heard from him.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I'm pretty sure that there is absolutely no canon back-story for Agrias, but if there is, and I've contradicted it, please do let me know and I'll do my best to adapt this. I'm not trying to suggest 'tragic back-story' or anything here. If a soldier loses her best friend to war and is then dumped by her partner, that's terrible for her, but it isn't full-on tragedy. Bereavement and relationship breakups happen, and they're awful, especially if they happen together. (And your boyfriend's a vile, shitty person if he dumps you for no obvious reason just after your best friend dies, but I still wouldn't call it tragedy in the widest sense.) It was at least as hard for Lavian, anyway, if you think about it.

Note that, just because I'm saying that Agrias is in her position primarily through nepotism and because she can use sword techniques, I'm not suggesting she isn't competent, (whatever she may have been thinking to the contrary). She's competent for any normal threat to Ovelia's security. However, with the manpower (or, rather, womanpower) and resources she had on hand, she wasn't ready for the extraordinary threats that she had to face. Put another way, she _is_ competent, but not extraordinarily so.

If the scene in Goug seems a bit thin, I did that semi-deliberately so as not to detract from the Agrias section. I was going to do a whole bit on the Goug Machinist's Guild and where Mustadio and Besrudio fit into it. I decided, after a back-story info-dump, I'd keep the rest simple. They needed to get to Goug, it didn't have to be in a flashy way.

A Question: If I did a one-shot, tying up the loose ends that were left for the three remaining generic 'girls' from Chapter 1, would anyone care enough to read it? I have a few ideas jotted down, but I don't know if it's worth me bothering to turn it into a full-blown short story, as I deliberately didn't make the girls all that important (arguably Sam became important-ish, with her PoV in the epilogue). It would be set a few days before the opening of Chapter 3 of the game, during a time when Ramza keeps putting off leaving for Lesalia, as he doesn't really want to see Zalbaag again. The only reason I'm contemplating doing it at all is that, during Chapters 3 &amp; 4, I may occasionally use Hildegarde, with her family's wide-ranging trade connections, as a source of information, when the group are passing through Dorter. Post a Review/PM me if you would/wouldn't like to see that one-shot.


	13. 13 - How to be a Superbly Good Guard

Since at least three people, other than me, want to know what happened to Hildegarde, Ophellia and Samantha, I'm working on the one-shot about them and should have it ready sometime in the next couple of weeks.

* * *

**Vignett 13 – What it Takes to be a Superbly Good Guard**

_Lionel Castle Grounds, Late Morning_

The Cardinal's Palace, a huge modern edifice, was built within the grounds of the much older, ruined Lionel Castle. Agrias and Ovelia, having decided to take advantage of the unusually warm weather for the time of year, had walked the mile and a half to the ruins to have a look at them. Agrias had said that if they were going to walk, she'd rather have some destination in mind, rather than just wandering aimlessly. Ovelia had hidden a smile at that; she had been tempted to insist that no, she'd rather just amble about - just to watch the oh so goal-orientated Agrias squirm a little. Maybe tomorrow, she could try that, if the weather held.

"Agrias?"

"Hmm?" Ovelia smiled; she preferred conversations with Agrias when she wasn't totally focused on trying to be the perfect Lionsguard, and Agrias sounded a little distracted.

"We're friends, aren't we... sort of?" She asked in a soft voice. It became apparent from Agrias' reply that she wasn't distracted enough.

"I feel very privileged to hear you say that you consider me..." Ovelia flicked her fingers dismissively, feeling irritated.

"None of that. I just want to know if you see me as more than just your charge."

"Yes, of course I do." Agrias said, smiling at the younger woman.

Impulsively Ovelia took Agrias' hand for a moment and gave it a quick squeeze.

"Thank you." She thought for a few moments. "As your friend, couldn't you confide in me what's wrong, then? I thought once we got here, you'd unwind, but you're as tense as ever."

"It's..." difficult to say 'it's personal' when she'd just agreed, in a round-about way, that the two of them were friends. She compromised.

"It's just family... stuff." She trailed off again. They walked on in silence for nearly half a minute, before Ovelia suddenly said.

"Oh! Your father, you mean? Are you worried about him... all of this... or are you just missing being able to contact them?"

"Both I suppose. I miss Dain's letters most – my baby brother." Ovelia nodded.

Dain was ten years younger than Agrias, and their mother had died of childbed fever when the boy was just a couple of days old. Agrias, being Agrias, had done her best to take over her mother's role within the family. Ovelia knew this much from occasional things Lavian and Agrias had said over the last couple of years.

"Dain was always such a bright little boy." Agrias said, sounding wistful. "He started writing to me every week, just after I first went to war. He was only six, and the letters were barely legible, but I used to love getting them, he'd always draw me a picture at the end and I'd pin it up, on the wall above my bunk. He kept that up the whole time I was at Orbonne too – minus the picture, which he's 'far too old' for, now, of course. He said he was so excited that I was coming home.

"He's just turned twelve, and there's nothing... earth-shattering in the letters, just how school is and his friends and our sisters, but I'd kill to receive one, just now. He's bound to _be_ all right, I just like hearing from him and _knowing_ he is."

Ovelia reached out and squeezed the other woman's hand again, thinking that Agrias really was masterful at being a 'mother chocobo' – it seemed to be her natural state, when she wasn't interrogating or threatening anyone she found suspicious or thought might be a security risk. Ovelia, herself, felt like she was mothered to within an inch of her life, some days... which was often quite nice, actually, when you'd never had that from anyone before. Agrias started to speak again.

"You're right, though, my tenseness is mostly because of my father.

"I sent him an official report from Dorter, saying that you'd been kidnapped but that we were in hot pursuit of the culprit and expected to have you back before long. Once we caught up with you, I realised... I'm _itching_ to write to my Papa and demand to know where he stands on this. I need to _know_ if I can trust my father. If he was just my commanding officer... but of course, for me, he's not just the effective head of the Lionsguards, he's _Papa_! I'd like to know if my father is ignorant of this whole plot, or if he's turning a blind eye... or even if he might be condoning it.

"You need to understand the big difference between my father and I – why, in some ways, he's a superbly good guard and I'm not. If I'd been posted to Orbonne and found you to be an obnoxious brat, I'd have done my best to keep you safe because it was my duty, but I wouldn't have really _cared_. Papa, he's different. He's extremely, _unquestioningly_ loyal to the Crown. I'd much prefer to believe he isn't, but he _could_ be implicit in all of this - in the plots. If someone, somehow convinced him that the stability of the Atkascha royal line lies in its having only a single heir..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

Ovelia thought about that for a few moments.

"And if Orinus really _isn't_ Ondoria's son? That would make his 'loyalty' a betrayal of the Atkaschas, wouldn't it?" Agrias gaped at her for a moment.

"Where in Ivalice could you have heard _that_ piece of gossip?" She knew she hadn't said it and she'd made it abundantly clear to the other women that gossiping about the royal family was not acceptable in a Lionsguard.

"Ser Delita took it upon himself to explain some of the intricacies of Ivalician politics to me. I was grateful, it's always _nice_ to know _why_ you're being kidnapped, at least." She said, rolling her eyes. "Though I think he may have explained _all, _rather than just_ some, _of the intricacies of Ivalician politics. He waxed eloquent for almost an entire day about it."

"His 'old friend', Ramza, has a good grasp of the political climate of the country too..." Agrias said, and her expression became speculative.

Ovelia schooled her features and turned her face away a little. Since she now knew who Ramza was, she had her suspicions that she'd heard almost as much about 'Ser' Delita, over the years. The last letter of Alma's that mentioned both of the boys, before the Tietra disaster, had said something along the lines of:

_The boys arrived home the day before yesterday and are already off to Dorter on some mission for Zalbaag. Ramza's not much more than the skinny runt he always has been, but I was amazed at Delita, he's grown yet again, and I'm starting to think if he gets any taller I'm going to develop a crick in my neck any time I try to have a conversation with him!_

Ramza wasn't a 'skinny runt' any more, but 'Ser Delita' certainly had made her feel short! If he really was Alma's Delita, then that would certainly explain some of the strange, guarded, almost agonisingly pained undercurrents that had run through the two young men's confrontation.

* * *

_The Bunansa Residence, Goug. Late-Evening_

Ramza, Lavian and Ladd walked into the Bunansa's large kitchen where Mustadio was making supper with Alicia and Wilfrid the apprentice's help. Though he was clearly exhaused, Besrudio had tried to insist on helping to cook dinner for their rescuers. Mustadio had put his foot down, and after a little argument, Besrudio was now merely sitting and 'supervising', though his eyes were heavy and his head would occasionally nod towards his chest.

"There's a ship going to Warjilis tomorrow - sails on the afternoon tide and will take about a day to get there. I've booked the five of us passage." Ramza walked over and automatically began to help with the meal. "Are you _really_ sure you want to come with us?" Ramza asked Mustadio as he began to chop herbs.

"Yes, this wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for our damned stone."

"Actually," Ramza said, "in a weird way, it's just as well that you and your 'damned stone' became involved. If you hadn't, we wouldn't know what was going on. At least this way we know about the danger that the Princess and Lady Agrias are in. Now we just have to work out what the best way is to rescue them, when we have a far inferior force and our only Sword Technique user is one of the captives."

He noticed Lavian giving him the sort of assessing look he usually only got from Lady Agrias. To his chagrin, Lavian nodded towards the door to the main part of the house.

"I'd like a few words, if I may, Ramza." _Oh hell!_

Once they were out in the hallway she began.

"Mustadio isn't the only one who has no obligation to take part in this rescue mission." She said. "Why are you doing this? Who are you, really? Ladd's happy to talk about pretty much anything – the trick is usually getting him to shut up – but he's oddly closed-mouthed when it comes to you. Sellsword or not, I know you can't be under the impression you're going to get paid for this."

"It never once occurred to me that we would." He said with a shrug. "We're just people who want to do the right thing, same as Mustadio is. Surely you want help trying to rescue them?"

"Of course I do! That wasn't the question, though."

She put her hands on her hips and looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Ramza sighed.

"You know who I am, Lady Lavian. I'm someone who is prepared to help you to rescue your Captain and your Princess – without being paid for it. Isn't that the most important thing here?" He said in a calm, very polite tone of voice. He gave her an assessing look – the tone and the body language suddenly struck him as very familiar.

"Forgive me for being so blunt, but if you think that just by acting like a pale shadow of Lady Agrias, you can intimidate me, Lady Lavian, you're wrong. For a start," he actually gave her the sort of cheeky grin that she was used seeing on Mustadio, "I know you can't Judgement Blade me if you don't hear what you want to, but mostly you just don't have her... presence." She saw him put his hands on his hips, now mirroring her... consciously?

Lavian had been amazed when, a few of days ago, Agrias, of all people, had expressed the opinion that Ramza would make an exemplary leader some day, he just needed practise and confidence. Since leaving Lionel, Lavian had realised that far from making an exemplary leader _some day, _Ramza already _was_ a leader, and a good one, when he needed to be. The trick to making those skills emerge had been as simple as telling him he was in charge... or perhaps doing that while removing Agrias from the equation.

Ramza was now, she realised, almost unrecognisable when compared to the meek, subservient youth of only ten days ago, who wouldn't even challenge Gaffgarion's most uncalled-for insults. But, then, all sorts of things had changed completely within the same time frame.

"You, know, Ramza," she said, suddenly giving him a lop-sided smile, "if you'd just had the guts to stand up to Agrias like this, your life would have been a lot easier, the last couple of weeks!" She saw him grimace.

"Aside from her _presence,_ that I've already mentioned, I come from a military family. You grow up with an ingrained deference to rank and authority in those circumstances, I suppose. Besides, she was in charge, but _you_ insisted that _I_ have to be, for now. That gives _me_ the rank and authority, here." He shrugged.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'll go and finish off that parsley." He gave her a small bow that, in her eyes, managed to be a fraction less deferential than the ones she'd seen him give before. That was probably just her perception, she told herself; somehow, the boy was still always unfailingly polite, even during the conversation they'd just had.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Strictly speaking, I'm probably messing up the 'canon-ness' of this by having Ovelia identify Delita. After I had her work out who Ramza was, though, I couldn't see how, by the same logic, she wouldn't have realised that he was Ramza and Alma's at-one-time-almost-brother. This is going to work better for what I want to do with Ovelia and Delita, and it's a fairly trivial thing, so I'm hoping it doesn't matter _too _much.

I've kind of got a little obsessed with portraying bits of 'Ramza the leader' in the vignettes since they left Lionel. Blame it on the fact that there has to be a reason why you'd give the youngest member of the team its leadership, especially when he doesn't really want it _and_ they already have Agrias, who has been in charge, before now. Trying out his wings on Lavian is good practise for the next time he is confronted with an annoyed Agrias! Admittedly, though, the two women aren't really in the same league, when it comes to the intimidating 'presence' stakes!


	14. 14 - That Bird is a Floozy

**Vignette 14 – That Bird is a Floozy**

_The Merchant Ship 'Angel's Wing', Mid Afternoon, 1 hour out of Goug_

"I think I just heard squawking." Ramza said to Ladd.

The two of them and Alicia were sitting on a couple of large coils of rope on the deck. Mustadio and Lavian were still hanging over the edge of the boat, a few feet away, stomachs empty now, but apparently trying, unsuccessfully, to make them even emptier.

"Yeah, I thought I heard something too, and it sounded like that night in Zaland. You don't think?..."

"I think it was Boco. You know that stable-hand at Lionel said she got out of her stall and they found her in the Cardinal's black cock-bird's instead, the morning we left. He said she was rubbing necks with the black and that they were preening and and he saw them grooming each other's tail feathers. That's typical post-mating behaviour. And the timing would be about right."

"Oh hell! That means that we're going to have to stay in Warjilis tomorrow night, rather than heading out to Lionel, as soon as possible. And you only just found a buyer for Tyche, this morning!" Ladd said. It was notable that neither of them was rushing to be the one to discover that they definitely had another egg to deal with.

"Once those two started feeding the fish, the moment we left harbour, we were always going to have to stay overnight." Alicia said, nodding towards the grey-looking twosome at the railing, who kept refusing any help. "That puking pair aren't going to feel miraculously one hundred percent well once we get them back onto dry land. They'll need a few hours rest and then plenty to eat and drink – Lavian can't even keep water down right now! They have to be fighting fit in case we run into anything dangerous on the way to Lionel."

"It probably only loses us two or three hours of daylight, since we aren't due into Warjilis until about this time tomorrow." Ramza said, he shrugged. "And we can't do anything else. I suppose I'd better go down to the hold and see if it really is an egg." He got up and went over to the nearest hatch, quickly disappearing down the ladder to the deck below.

Ladd glanced over at Alicia and noticed that she was biting her lip and looking thoughtful. He didn't want to disturb her thoughts, so instead he looked over at Lavian and Mustadio, wondering whether to try offering them assistance down to their bunks again. Eventually Alicia spoke.

"Ladd, everyone but me seems to be taking it for granted that the Cardinal will have taken Ovelia and Agrias hostage in order to make us give them the Holy Stone, but... surely... he's a _Cardinal_. A Senior Churchman like him simply wouldn't _do_ something like that... surely? This whole thing could just be a mix-up. For all we know the Cardinal will have Baert in custody when we get there."

Ladd looked at her, remembering that she had practically dragged Lavian to church with her immediately after breakfast that morning, and had orchestrated the women all attending church in Zaland and Lionel too. He thought Alicia was probably genuinely devout and he didn't want to upset or insult her. On the other hand, there seemed little chance that there had been a mistake about this.

"I don't know, Liss. I don't think... the evidence seems pretty damning. Just try not to get your hopes up... that's all. _You_ were the one who pointed out that it was suspicious that the Cardinal didn't send the company of knights, he promised, after us, the morning we left Lionel, after all."

Ramza re-emerged onto deck.

"Yes an egg, black-tinged shell, this time, so we can be pretty sure it was the Cardinal's bird. It's a shame, given that they fetch a pretty penny, but that's no indication that the chick will be a black. I suppose the problem is that Boco is such a bright bird - we've all seen that she can work most knots free by pecking at them and then pulling on her tether, so if she wants to get out of her stall and 'cuddle up' with a male when she's put into a stable, she will."

"We're just going to have to face it," Ladd said solemnly, "that the bird is a floozy!"

"'fraid so." Ramza said in an equally grave tone, before grinning at his friend. "It isn't all bad, I suppose, I got a decent price for little Tyche. That got us an extra gun, so now we can have Mustadio doing his thing and a gun-fighting chemist too, if strategy dictates that we need both.

"Probably time I had a go at Orations too, and I thought I could use a gun for that too. You know, I think I might be quite good at them, they're not so unlike the yells and calls my father taught me, after all."

Ladd turned to Alicia with a sarcastic grin.

"Ooh, Ramza being good at a new technique – there's a novelty." She smiled a little and rolled her eyes.

"I get no respect for leading this team; don't know why I bother." Ramza grumbled, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

He looked over at Alicia – she was usually more than willing to join in their banter, but so far, she'd made almost no contribution.

"What's wrong, Lady Alicia?" He asked.

Ladd grimaced at him and Ramza wondered if that meant he shouldn't have asked.

"You're all _so_ sure that the Cardinal's part of some wicked plot, aren't you?" She asked, eyes suddenly showing a sheen of tears. Ramza opened his mouth and then shut it again. He thought for another few moments before he began to speak.

"I _hope_ you're right, that we walk up to Lionel Castle Gates and all our fears are allayed. But yes, I think that Baert's words didn't leave much room for interpretation; the Cardinal's involved. Even if you're right, my Lady, we have to prepare ourselves for the worst, so we have to assume that he is part of this 'wicked plot', until that's proven wrong. Perhaps it will be; that would be the best outcome for everyone." He thought about it for a moment more, while she chewed her lip and didn't respond.

"Lady Alicia?" He said gently. Speaking slowly, he chose his words carefully. "Church_men_, are just that. They're part of the Church but, ultimately, they're just men. Please don't fool yourself into believing that they can't be just as corrupt and dishonourable as any other men, even if their faith ought to help them to resist those baser... traits. The Cardinal could have chosen to live his faith and not to take part in this plot, but I think he's chosen the opposite.

"I'm sorry, I know that your strong faith makes this all difficult, but please don't confuse religious allegiance for incorruptible goodness. If it helps, I was brought up to revere the Church too, but I realise now that I have to be realistic, and acknowledge that there's a difference between Saints and real people, and I'm pretty sure that the Cardinal's no Saint."

Saying that was harder than Alicia knew. Though Ramza had never met the man before, he was aware that the Cardinal had been an old comrade of his father's. The man had led the Order of the Eastern Sky for a short time before turning to the Church and, in leaving, caused that Order to disband and its men to be absorbed by the other two existing Orders. He had a vague impression that his father had counted the man a friend, though not necessarily a close one.

It shouldn't bother him, that old friends of his father turned out to be corrupt and dishonourable, not after the eye-opening revelations about his own brothers, but this sort of thing niggled away at him, deep inside. It subtly reinforced jaded feelings of deep cynicism that he would have liked not to have had to experience and that he thought were counter-productive for... well... life, in general.

"Lady Alicia, once we get to Lionel, assuming we aren't proven wrong about Delacroix's involvement, you will fight, won't you? I know you're devout, but..." She cut him off, her voice icy.

"I'm a Lionsguard, Ramza, and if you are right – and you probably are, I admit – my princess is in terrible danger; you shouldn't even need to _ask_!"

* * *

_The Cardinal's Palace, Lionel, Mid-Afternoon_

Though it was still relatively warm for the time of year, the weather had finally broken with frequent, heavy showers keeping them inside. Ovelia hadn't even been able to inflict a morning of aimless wandering on Agrias, just to see her reaction. So they were, not to put too fine a point on it, moping about indoors, and had been for most of the day.

Agrias was at the clavichord, attempting to pick out a piece that was a little too complicated for her sight-reading skill and every fifteen or twenty seconds Ovelia would hear a misplayed note, followed by a brief hesitation and, often, a muttered swearword. Interestingly, Agrias had chosen, without prompting, to wear a _dress _today – an unheard of novelty while she was on duty. Her sword was propped against the clavichord, but that was the only indication of her status as a guard.

Ovelia laid down her embroidery. She must have been spending too much time in Agrias' company because she was seeing even less use for the fancy sewing than usual – it didn't seem to achieve anything, so why was she bothering?

"Agrias, I'm thinking about clawing my own eyes out, just for something to do!" She said, rising and going to the window, looking for something – anything – to distract herself. "At least at Orbonne I had my studies and books to read and... Ooh, come and look, I think he's proposing to her!" She had spotted a Griffin Knight – she vaguely recognised him as one of the more senior officers – walking under the cover of the cloisters with a girl, a few moments before, and now he had dropped to one knee in front of her, holding one of her hands between both of his.

"Hmm, really? Who?" Agrias said, rising from the keyboard without much enthusiasm.

"Look, over there." Ovelia pointed, she had dropped her voice, almost as if she thought the couple might be able to hear them.

Agrias saw that, indeed, there was a courting couple in one corner of the covered arcade that ran around the edge of the cloister. The man wore wizard's robes rather than armour – probably a Spellblade, Agrias thought, she gathered that there were a couple amongst the officers – and was on one knee in front of a tall woman with long hair, worn loose. As she watched, the woman bent down and kissed him lightly on the lips. The man came to his feet and took her in his arms, then lifted her off the ground and swung her around with an exuberant show of what she could only assume was joy at his acceptance.

"Well, whoever they are, I hope they'll be very happy." Agrias said quietly. "They certainly look it, right now." The two had begun to kiss. She glanced over at Ovelia who, with her elbows on the window-ledge, had her chin propped in her hands. The princess had a faraway look in her eyes.

"I know princesses aren't allowed romance – we just get politically sound alliances – but I suppose there's nothing wrong with day-dreaming, is there?" She said wistfully, once she noticed Agrias watching her.

"That goes for almost anyone noble-born, you know." Agrias said gently. "I wouldn't expect to be allowed to pick a husband for myself, either." She accepted that as a fact of life, even if she didn't like it.

Ovelia, mercurial as ever, changed topic abruptly.

"I like her clothes. They're terribly fashionable. Do you think I could get a dressmaker to make me something like that?" She nodded towards the blonde woman who was still being enthusiastically kissed.

"The skirt and the belt, yes, the blouse, definitely not. You aren't meant for wearing those loose, off-the-shoulder styles, Ovelia... neither am I for that matter."

"Why not? Like I said, they're terribly fashionable."

"Look at her figure and now look at yours, or mine. If either of us tried it, we'd quickly end up with that blouse around our waist. Lavian could wear it and look good in it, but she's far better endowed in the chest region than either of us, so on her it would have something to keep it up, but on either of us, it would just end up with us exposing far more than we intended!"

"No romance and no fashionable clothes. Nothing but disappointment and boredom, in fact." Ovelia said, sounding atypically morose.

"I was thinking about arranging for you to have some extra guards, while I go into town tomorrow morning. I can't do anything about you not being able to wear off-the-shoulder dresses, but I might be able to pick up some things to help with the boredom. Some new non-ecclesiastical books was the first thing I thought of, what else would you like me to get?"

"Ooh, can I come with you? _Pleeease_?" Ovelia asked, straightening up and actually bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet in her enthusiasm at the thought of leaving the Castle's grounds.

"I... I want to say yes... but you can't, Ovelia. I'm sorry. Your safety..." Agrias put her arm around the other girl's shoulder and shepherding her over to the small escritoire at the other side of the room.

"Why don't we sit down and make a list of all the things I can get, while I'm in town, to stop us being quite so bored?" Agrias said, hoping to distract Ovelia, who, for a moment, had seemed quite close to crying. If she had cried, Agrias would hardly have blamed her – and to think that, until the last few days, she'd always thought that 'bored to tears' was merely a saying.

* * *

**Author's Note**

I've kept this fairly short and simple, since the next one is going to have a lot going on!

The Order of the Eastern Sky is mentioned as the organisation that Gaffgarion was originally part of (in fics, I've seen a few references to him leading the Order, but I can't find any evidence for that. The game says Gaffgarion was 'a Division Commander', which suggests to me that he commanded a section of it, but not the whole Order). I don't think I'm making too big a leap by saying it no longer exists - if there's a third Order extant, they're being remarkably quiet on the whole civil war/political front.

It kind of makes sense to me that if a third (smaller?) Order existed it might be disbanded if its leader abandoned it, especially if this was shortly after one of its Division Commanders had been dismissed for dishonourable conduct, which probably reflected badly on the whole Order. Delacroix as its leader makes some sense, in a way, too – for him to have a history as a famous war hero he has to have served for a number of years in the army. To then leave the army and manage to claw his way up the Church's hierarchy to Cardinal, he has to have some serious political clout. So whoever he was, before going into the Church, he has to have been an important, influential man.

It also gives me an answer to a question the game always left me with - if Gaffgarion is _Dycedarg's_ 'ever-faithful man' (as he puts it) why is he given so much responsibility by the Cardinal? Presumably there were members of the Lionel Griffin Knights who could have staged a mock-execution and led the defence at the castle gates (or one of the Templars, since Folmarv's in Lionel). However, if Gaffgarion was at one time an effective, if brutal, lieutenant to Delacroix, during the war, then it makes sense for Gaffgarion to be trusted to be in charge of these tasks. So there you go – insta-back-story for Cardinal Delacroix and the defunct Order of the Eastern Sky and I'm happy because I've managed to make it semi-logical!

Spot the early cameo appearances – I hope everyone recognised them – though it's totally unimportant if you didn't. Oh, and do you want to take a wild guess at what might happen when Agrias leaves Ovelia alone tomorrow?


	15. 15 - Happy

This is the longest chapter yet – about double the average length – think of it as two combined; there's a whole lot going on in a single day.

I'm surprised no-one pointed out that I cocked up in the last one. Beowulf is not a 'Spellblade', that's the name of his abilities, officially he's called a Templar. However, I think I'm going to keep calling someone with his abilities a Spellblade, simply because, while the game calls him Templar, he is/was part of the Griffin Knights and never (as far as my quick and dirty research indicates) part of Folmarv's Knights Templar. I'm convinced that Square Enix just decided to be deliberately confusing in WoTL by renaming the Shrine Knights the Knights Templar, yet keeping Beowulf as a Templar, so I've decided that since I accidentally simplified things, I'm going to keep it that way!

Historical Note: A wicket gate is one of those small doors that are cut into a full-sized castle gate (I had to google 'small door in castle gate' to be reminded of the right name for one, so I thought I'd include it here). The one you're about to meet also has a small hatch cut at head-height for communication purposes.

* * *

**Vignette 15 – Happy**

_Lionel, Mid-morning_

Agrias was unconsciously humming happily to herself as she hefted the small bag of holding that had been her first purchase of the day – horribly expensive, but infinitely useful. Bags of holding were great inventions, she thought, as she mentally went through the list of things in there, double checking that she had everything – chess and backgammon sets, some sheet music and about a dozen new books, were the first things that the two of them had come up with, the day before, as things to pass the time.

Yesterday evening, she and Ovelia had sat staring at that short list, racking their brains to come up with more ideas. After a few minutes, it had occurred to Agrias to offer to teach Ovelia how to shoot, so she also had a short-bow and a quiver of arrows in the bag – archery was considered an acceptable, if not strongly encouraged, feminine pastime for even the most genteel of ladies. Then there was the oddest of her purchases – three colourful children's balls – late last evening, Ovelia had suddenly declared that she wanted these, as she intended to attempt to teach herself to _juggle_, of all things. Lastly, there were enough sweetmeats to make both of them heartily sick if they tried to eat them all at once.

She hoped Ovelia was enjoying her morning. After she'd gone to speak to the Griffon Knight's Commander, last evening, about an extra pair of guards for Ovelia for this morning, she'd had a brainwave and detoured to the Master falconer's rooms and asked him, if the weather was reasonable in the morning, if he had the time to give the princess a lesson. Why she hadn't thought about things like that earlier was beyond her – Ovelia might be a little frail-looking but she was actually fairly fit and very healthy, so why not look to more active pastimes?

The castle's South Gate was the one she had come out of, a couple of hours before, and it had been wide open and had only a minimal guard when she'd left. She looked on, astounded, when she saw that the gate was shut fast and she could count half a dozen archers ranged across its top. Mistrustfully, she kept watch on the archers as she approached the wicket gate. She knocked and the hatch opened.

"Problems?" She gestured upwards to where she knew the archers to be.

"Sorry, m'Lady, I'm under orders not to let you in."

"I beg your pardon?"

"That's all I've been told to tell you, m'Lady, you aren't to be let back in, no matter what." The gate guard repeated, wincing slightly under Agrias' glare. He was quick to close the hatch.

She blinked at the wicket gate, nonplussed, then began to hammer on it with both of her fists, panic rising. This had to be a joke, a terrible, horrible, sick joke. No, not a joke, a betrayal; Cardinal Delacroix, the man who she had put her last hope in, must be going to hand Ovelia over to the Northern Sky... or the Southern Sky? Or... was the Church, itself, interested in power-broking by using Ovelia?... Probably not; it wasn't their style.

Bruised hands were not going to help the situation, so she stopped the futile hammering and just stood thinking. _Why_ had she not donned her armour and brought her sword? Oh, the justification had seemed reasonable enough; Ovelia was the one she needed to be fully kitted-out to protect, and Ovelia was not coming with her. Now though...

How to rescue Ovelia? Alone, her chances were nearly non-existent, she knew, but she had to try. First she'd need armour, a shield and a sword – what use was a Holy Knight without a sword? And how to get any of those with barely a gil left in her purse? She realised she was shaking and suddenly felt as if her legs wouldn't hold her, so she sank to the ground, to sit with her back against the gate. As she automatically arranged her skirts modestly, she cursed herself again and again for letting her guard drop to this extent.

_Wearing a dress and no sword. _**_No. Damned. Sword._**_ Anything else, I could find a way around, but no sword? What the hell good is__ a Holy Knight with NO SWORD! I must be the biggest, stupidest, damnable fool in all Ivalice!_

_Focus_... money... money... those bills of exchange... Yes, they were still folded up in her purse! After only a little thought, she'd agreed wholeheartedly with Ramza that exchanging the bills she had from the Royal Treasury was to declare exactly where she was. But that couldn't possibly matter now. By the time she was traced, she'd either have Ovelia free and clear, or far more likely have died in the attempt.

_I have to think positively; as far as I know they have no sword technique users, that means many of these guards will never have had to deal with one. First I have to get a decent sword, then I need to hit hard and fast and make sure they learn just what a problem 'dealing with' a Holy Knight can be... I'm still going to die long before I can get to Ovelia!... It doesn't matter, this is my fault, I left her alone, so I have to **try**, dammit._

Shakily, she got back to her feet. A frontal assault was out - a suicide run helped no-one, Ovelia included. Slip in after dark, somehow? How? She'd noticed that there were flambeaux placed at strategic intervals along the castle's outer walls at night, so she'd have a little light, now she just had to work out how to slip through a gate or over a wall. They wouldn't keep the gates closed forever against one woman, surely, this was just a temporary thing, probably just for today.

Ovelia might already be dead... No! She _wouldn't_ believe that. Ovelia was either going to be handed over to one of the Orders, very soon or, just possibly, they would be moving her to Mullonde. Though, if the Church was suddenly going to take an active political role, that meant that they were breaking hundreds of years of their traditional non-interference in politics. She wasn't stupid; the Church was too large an organisation and too important not to have fingers in pies and strings to pull, but officially they were a neutral party, often holding a particularly powerful, well respected position in Ivalice precisely _because_ of their much-vaunted neutrality.

Was 'fulcrum' the correct word – the point about which other things turned? In the unlikely event that she ever saw Mustadio again she'd have to ask him; it was the sort of mechanical thing he would know. Yes, she was fairly sure it was 'fulcrum' – by remaining neutral and being able to offer intervention and mediation, the Church was often the fulcrum in Ivalice's political life; not part of the workings of the machine, itself, but essential to its proper function. _Stop distracting yourself with stupid damned words and think about a plan!_

After a few minutes, she thought she had the rough outline of one – now she just had to get some money and the equipment she needed to make it happen. She walked warily out from under the shelter of the wall, hiking her skirt well above her ankles, in readiness for dashing back towards the city at the first sign of arrows, but, though she saw the archers come to attention, they didn't fire.

* * *

An hour or so after her strategic retreat, Agrias was in a towering rage but trying desperately not to show it; losing her temper completely, _before_ she had a sword in her hand, wasn't going to cut it. She turned the glare that could usually make grown men cringe, back onto the sword-smith who seemed to find it amusing. She didn't like doing it, but she was going to have to try a different approach. She made a conscious effort to soften her face, though she couldn't quite manage the simpering smile she felt would work best.

"Could I at least _hold_ the sword, for just a moment?" She asked coaxingly. She'd actually thought for half a second about using a wheedling little-girl voice, since that almost seemed to be what the two men expected of her, but decided that, even in extremis, she had more self-respect than that.

"Oh, let her have a try of it, Doban; it'll be a laugh to see her try to swing it!" The armourer said jovially to his business partner, adding to Agrias. "Just you be careful not to hurt yourself, little lady."

Perhaps irrationally, perhaps not, Agrias had decided that she hated all men, about three seconds after walking into this workshop.

The sword-smith reversed the sword, proffering it hilt-first, an incredibly patronising grin on his face. She virtually snatched it from him.

In a practised gesture, and with the violence of a cracking whip, she flung her sword-arm out and towards the anvil that the armourer had been working at, when she'd arrived. A jagged, ghostly, sword-shaped apparition made of pure destructive energy surged up from the floor and lightning crackled down from the ceiling, leaving a darkened patch. The breastplate resting on the anvil exploded into uneven fragments. Interesting – _that_ had never happened before! Useful, though! She briefly wondered if a mixture of anger at everything and terror over what might be happening to Ovelia was somehow fuelling her gift.

"Right! So do you two _gentlemen_ want to stop calling the _unutterably_ pissed-off Holy Knight 'little lady', and simply sell her what she's asked for? Or does the next Hallowed Bolt go through the pair of you?"

The terrified armourer scuttled off to the back of the workshop, where he kept a stock of shields and armour, so she turned back to the sword-smith, narrowing her eyes. The glare finally seemed to be having its usual effect.

"I... er... I... I might be able to give you a discount on the sword, my Lady." Doban said hurriedly, in a small voice. Agrias gave him a smile so wintry it almost froze him solid. "A-and the armour and sh-shield, of course." He stammered. "And... um... no charge for that breastplate, of course; m-must've been faulty."

* * *

_Warjilis, Late Afternoon_

Delita rounded the corner and, leaning himself nonchalantly against the wall, began to count. After a few moments he heard rapid footfalls thudding towards him.

As Ramza caught sight of him, where he was leaning, the shorter man skidded to a halt.

"Seventeen – I didn't think I'd make it past twelve." Delita said, voice sardonic.

Ramza just shook his head and narrowed his eyes, before he burst out.

"What the _fuck_ is all of this cloak and dagger crap really about, Delita?"

Delita raised one eyebrow.

"My, my, I didn't even know you knew that kind of language, Ramza."

Shocked, he only just dodged the punch Ramza sent straight at his face, in response.

"Ajora, Ramza! I was only winding you up."

"No! You were being a smug, sarcastic _arsehole_! Don't think I don't know you well enough to see when you're spoiling for a fight! If you keep up this ridiculous act for one moment longer, then don't worry, I'll be more than happy to oblige you!"

"You already tried _obliging_ me, and very nearly succeeded; you're faster than I remembered."

"A lot of things have changed in the last year and a half." Ramza said, and saw Delita's face twist into something pained for a moment.

"Isn't _that_ the truth?" Delita said with a bark of mirthless laughter. He looked at Ramza, for a long moment, then nodded back towards where they had come from.

"Come on, there's a tavern just past that square we were walking through. I'll buy you a beer and we can talk, though there's a lot of questions I won't be able to answer." Ramza took a deep breath.

"All right, though not a beer. I don't drink any more."

"Oh, don't be such a milksop! One beer won't kill you."

Ramza opened his mouth to argue and thought better of it. The explanation of why he didn't drink any more just didn't seem worth it, right then. If Delita insisted on buying beer, then Ramza didn't have to drink it; gleaning any information was more important.

They sat at a small table in one corner of the tavern and for a few tense moments each just stared at the other, unspeaking. Ramza suddenly shook his head and pulled a face.

"A couple of years ago, if anyone had tried to convince me that you and I could be so awkward with each other, I'd have laughed at the idea." They continued to look at each other, uncomfortably.

"How's Alma?" Delita eventually asked.

"How should I know? You saw her as recently as I did." Delita's eyebrows shot up, but it was a few moments before he spoke.

"Well that puts paid to me asking what excuses Zalbaag gave you." There was another long awkward pause.

"How did you survive? I was knocked unconscious... when I came round, Sam said... the girls convinced me that you couldn't possibly have survived... that the building was too unstable... too dangerous... Gods!" He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth for a moment, his eyes wide, haunted.

Delita's shrug in response was a study in forced casualness.

"Sheer fluke, I think. It was good luck, I suppose, that I was kitted out to be a knight that day; meant I had a sword. You have to use Judgement Blade an awful lot of times to break solid rock down, but eventually it works. Amazing what desperation can drive one to!" There was a long pause, and the casual attitude evaporated and Delita stared at the table as if there was something riveting about the old, discoloured wood.

"Tietra, she... her body... I think it... acted like a wedge, it... the only reason that the stone slab didn't crush me... I think."

"_That's_ what you meant on the bridge!"

Delita nodded curtly. There was a long silence.

"Delita. If you truly believe that Tietra still watches over you, then... do you think..." Ramza swallowed audibly, "... do you _honestly_ think she approves of what you're doing, who you've become?"

Delita stared at him, expression mingling pain, anger and disbelief.

"I can't... I thought I could do this, but I just can't!" Delita pushed himself up from the table and began to move towards the door. Ramza stood and grabbed him by the wrist, to prevent him leaving.

"I'm sorry, that was cruel. The gods know _I've_ made some bad choices..."

"I should still go, I'm expected somewhere and... this wasn't a good idea."

"Lionel? Is that where you're going? Delving deeply into matters of royal maidens and sacred stones?"

"I've already said all I can, on that head, Ramza. It was meant as a friendly warning, for old time's sake. Let go of my arm." Ramza did as he was asked, but just as Delita turned and began to move again, he spoke up.

"Delita?" The other man paused, but didn't turn back. "Happy birthday for tomorrow." Delita froze.

"'Happy'?... Remind me what that feels like, again! Only... I'm doubting you have much first-hand knowledge of it, either, these days!" Delita said, still not turning around, then took off towards the door, his stride a little jerky.

Ramza sat back down on his stool with a thump. He spent some moments regarding the tabletop with the same intensity that Delita had, a couple of minutes before, then his gaze went listlessly to the two untouched mugs of beer. After perhaps a quarter of a minute of internal argument, he reached forward, picked up his own and drained it. A few moments later he did the same with the one that should have been Delita's.

About a minute after that, anyone who cared could have heard the polite blond man, in the wicked-looking armour, ask the barmaid for a bottle of the house's best brandy and a glass.

* * *

_The Cardinal's Palace, Lionel, Early Evening_

It was about an hour after dark and Ovelia had been locked in her rooms, with a couple of guards, since about twenty minutes after Agrias had left, first thing that morning. She'd begun terrified, but that had subsided into a dull fear that was ever present, but had receded far enough into the back of her mind that it allowed her to be able to spend much of her time trying to think if there was a way out of this predicament, worrying about Agrias and wondering why, when her life had been so monotonous for seventeen years, she suddenly was the victim of kidnappings and inexplicable imprisonments.

The most frustrating thing was that no-one would tell her what was going on or _why_. She had her own speculations, of course, but nothing concrete. Even the two guards in the room with her would only say 'Cardinal's orders' when she asked them almost anything. If only...

The door slammed open and there, swaying slightly, was Agrias. She looked terrible; there was a bloody smear on one of her cheeks and a piece of her leg-armour was missing, the trouser-leg underneath tattered and blood-stained. If Ovelia was any judge she was so exhausted that she was staying on her feet through willpower alone. After staring stunned at her, for a moment, Ovelia jumped to her feet and tried to dash to one side of Agrias. She knew she had to get out of the line of fire for Agrias to be able to use her most powerful sword techniques.

She was grabbed and held fast by one of the knights guarding her, the other pulling out a vicious-looking stiletto, aiming it right at Ovelia's breast.

The woman with the knife turned her head and spoke to Agrias.

"You come one step further and I stab her through the heart. If I pierce right through, there's no bringing her back!"

For a moment no-one moved and no-one spoke, then Agrias, voice empty, simply said.

"All right, I won't move from here... I'm so sorry, Ovelia."

Ovelia had a fraction of a second to wonder what specifically she was sorry for, when she saw Agrias gesture with her sword and, without fanfare or ceremony, she died.

* * *

Ovelia dragged in a ragged breath, wondering vaguely when she had been given a beating, as she couldn't remember one, yet her whole body ached. No, 'ached' was _far_ too mild a word. Gentle hands were helping her protesting body into a sitting position and a familiar voice was telling her to drink. Her eyes didn't want to focus but she recognised the Potion by scent and gratefully drank it down.

"You killed me?" She eventually wheezed.

"Yes." Agrias said, with a wince.

"Are guards allowed to do that?" Her eyes coming back into focus, she could just make out Agrias pulling a face.

"Not... really."

"Okay, just... do your best not to do it again, then; I don't feel so good." Ovelia said, giving a dry cough.

"I'm so very, very sorry, Ovelia." Agrias said, her arm still around Ovelia's back, supporting her. "There just was no time to do anything else, and I knew I could bring you back with a Phoenix Down, if I used Hallowed Bolt on all three of you. If they'd done what they threatened, I couldn't have. You'll feel appalling until we can find you somewhere safe to get a few hours of sleep, but you're alive and another Potion will have you fully healed."

"Somewhere safe?" She repeated stupidly.

"I don't know where. I don't even know if I can get you out safely, but it's a miracle that I'm not already dead, so maybe I can pull another miracle out of the bag and keep us both alive long enough to get you away."

"You're trembling even more than me." Ovelia croaked out. "What happened?"

"I just killed you in order to save you; it's left left me a little shaky." Agrias said, and, indeed, her voice was shaky too. "I've also used more Holy Sword techniques in the last half-hour than I usually do in a month; it's... draining."

"Did you kill a lot of people?" Ovelia asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer. She looked around and sure enough, there were the crumpled bodies of the two guards who had been threatening her. There was a long pause.

"Yes..." A deep, deep sigh. "... and some of them were guards who were assigned to you, during the past few days..." Agrias looked away, her face intensely troubled.

"I don't... but you were a soldier... during the war, you must have..." Ovelia's voice implied the question that she didn't quite complete. She took the second Potion, that Agrias offered, and had finished drinking it before a reply was forthcoming.

"Yes, I killed a lot of people back then too, but those were 'the enemy'. You can divorce yourself, if you can just call the people you are fighting that. These weren't 'the enemy' – I've just killed Denston, who was so excited that his wife was finally pregnant, that it was the first thing he told me when I met him, and Elyn, who was just sixteen and was so proud that she had joined the Griffon Knights, only three weeks ago, and others who I've become acquainted with over the last few days. I'm not... happy about that." A tear ran down her cheek, leaving a pinkish track after it went through the smear of almost-dried blood.

"I _am_ happy that I got to you, though." Agrias pulled the princess into a fierce hug for a moment. Ovelia winced and Agrias went back to just helping prop her up in a sitting position. "Sorry, I forgot, I shouldn't do that when you've just been resurrected - everything hurts, I know. Ovelia, I'm trying to give you a couple of minutes to recover, but we need to get out of here. Do you think you can stand?"

"I _have_ to, don't I?" Agrias just nodded. She took her arm from around Ovelia's back and seemed pleased that she could even sit up on her own.

"Before I found out about all this, I bought us some sweetmeats as a treat, I wish I'd thought to put some in my pouch with the chemist's supplies; they'd help you a bit with the shakes." Agrias said, as she climbed to her feet and held out her hand to help Ovelia up.

"There's some apples in that bowl on the table." Ovelia said dazedly, feeling like she was drunk - she was unsteady on her feet and her head felt kind of... fuzzy and fluff-filled. She'd never been drunk, of course, but this was what she imagined it would feel like – except, in all likelihood, without the all-over-body pain. She was still trying to process everything that had happened in the last few minutes, and the sense of unreality that her fuzzy, fluff-filled head was giving her wasn't helping.

"Good idea." Agrias went and took two, putting one in her belt-pouch and giving the other to Ovelia. "Okay, you have as long as it takes me to explain the plan to eat as much of that as you can, then we're going to try to get back out of the Palace the same way I got in. Just don't step in the crystals on the way, we don't need you having the crystal terrors, on top of everything else." She glanced over at the two which were now floating where the guards bodies had been.

"Do you think you're up to casting Aegis, Ovelia?" She suddenly asked. When Ovelia nodded, her mouth full of apple, Agrias fumbled in her pouch.

"Okay, once you've finished eating that, cast it on yourself, then drink one of these and cast it on me." She handed over a few vials of Ether. "If we run into trouble, and we get separated, keep drinking them and casting it on yourself when it runs out and head for the North Gate – that's the one we originally entered the grounds through, and it's where I sneaked in, tonight. The wall's built into the cliff-face there, if you remember, and it's a fairly easy climb from the inside. I tied a rope to one of the crenelations at the top, so use it to let yourself down, then just run! Don't wait for me, just get away!

"Do you think you can find the place we camped the last night before we got to Lionel? It's about two hours North." Ovelia nodded. "Since I decided to wait for dark to make this rescue attempt, I hired a choco and rode back there this afternoon and left some supplies. There's a small bag of holding pushed in amongst the remaining branches of that tree that I Judgement Bladed – remember?" Ovelia nodded again, still eating. "Don't use the road, but stay within sight of it, where you can.

"If I'm not there by morning, I think... _Hell! _I can't believe I'm even _saying_ this!... I think that, unless you can think of something else, that handing yourself over to the Southern Sky may be your best bet... I don't know – but they, at least, want you alive. So you could make your way to Fort Besselat – there's a map in the bag. If I do get there before dawn, or if we manage to get out together, we'll probably be trying to find Lavian and Alicia first, but throwing ourselves on Goltanna's mercy may be our only option – in the end, anyway. If we're both alive and together, come morning, we can discuss it. Now, please, leave the apple and cast those spells."

The food had left her slightly less shaky and slightly more able to focus, so she did, while Agrias moved to the door. She kept her hand on the handle until the second Aegis had enveloped her, then, sword out, flung it wide. A man in wizard's robes with prematurely greying hair, who she had met a couple of times, stood opposite the door, with a sword held poised. His sword dropped faster than her own and Agrias felt a spell connect. She tried to use Hallowed Bolt, but nothing happened.

"I have to applaud your skill and determination, if not your actions, Lady Agrias. Four of my people were already crystals when I reached them and we had to use over a dozen Phoenix Downs to resurrect the rest. How in Ivalice did you manage such wholesale slaughter?"

"Divine Ruination is practically tailor-made for narrow corridors..." Agrias said, hollowly. "Ser Aliste, please, just let me take her our of here, I'm very sorry about those you couldn't resurrect but... _please_." Disabled, begging was all she had left, even though the small part of her mind that hadn't become a howling wasteland of fear and disappointed hope was telling her that, rationally, it was hopeless.

"No, I'm sorry, I have my orders and your actions this night haven't exactly endeared you to me and mine – and you're far too dangerous, awake." His sword moved downward again and she knew no more.

* * *

_Candle and Cup Inn, Warjilis, Late Evening_

"You're practically a local – you really don't know the city _at all_?" Ladd asked.

"No, Ladd, I'm not; it's four days by road, and you've seen why I don't just hop on a boat and come here!" Mustadio said irritably.

He still didn't feel completely well, but after a few hours back on dry land he'd lost the grey pallor and had finally been able to eat a hearty meal. Lavian, who had been several degrees worse, in her sea-sickness, was upstairs, still sleeping, but Mustadio was now in the tap with Alicia and Ladd, after a short nap. Ladd was acting like Ramza had been missing for a week, rather than just a few hours, Mustadio thought... All right, so he was worried, himself, but _how_ could not knowing the city be _his_ fault?

The two of them and Alicia had spent the best part of half an hour trying to decided how to go about finding their missing leader in a city that none of them knew. Ladd was simply repeating himself now; they'd already had a discussion about how Mustadio didn't know the city any better than either of the others, at least twenty minutes before.

A gloomy silence had descended, which was how the three of them, sitting close to the open door of the unusually quiet tap-room, were able to hear the soft thump on the wall and the giggle. Ladd looked confused for a moment but then shot out of his seat and dashed out into the hallway.

"Ramza, for the gods' sake, where have you _been?"_ He asked as Mustadio and Alicia appeared behind him.

"Pub." Was the inanely grinning Ramza's succinct, uninformative reply.

Ladd's hand suddenly shot out and he tried to grab something from Ramza's, but even in this state, Ramza was fast, and the hand with the bottle disappeared behind his back.

"Give me the bottle, Ramza." He said, with the artificial calm of one talking to someone perched on the parapet of a very high bridge.

"Nu-uh." Ramza shook his head in an exaggerated fashion.

"Three days after we met, you made me promise that, if I ever found you with alcohol, I was to do anything within my means to take it from you, so give me the bottle."

"No. Haven' finished."

"That's rather the point!" There was a very long pause, Ladd racking his brains. "You've been really good, haven't touched a drop for five months, you're much better doing without it, Ramza, so let me have it."

"S'mine." Another pause.

"Okay, it's yours... yeah... but... how about you share – I like brandy too, you know." Ladd said in a jovial, persuasive voice.

Ramza closed one eye while he thought about that for a moment.

"No! You jus' wanna take it off me."

Ladd couldn't fault his abilities of drunken deduction. He flailed around trying to come up with some other ploy. One occurred, but it was the last idea he had that didn't involve the three of them jumping Ramza and forcibly taking the bottle from him. Knowing Ramza, drunk or not, he'd manage to deal out some damage before they subdued him.

Ladd leant forward, keeping his voice very low, but trying to add an element of menace.

"Ramza _Beoulve_, give me that bottle right now, or I tell the ladies exactly who you are and _they'll_ tell Lady Agrias the moment they see her again." Ramza's slightly unfocused eyes narrowed.

"You're bein' mean, Ladd! 'N' don't call me that! 'S'Lugria."

"I'll make sure everyone is calling you that, if you don't give me the damned bottle!" There was a pause.

"Fine! Have it!" Ramza proffered it petulantly. Ladd snatched it before he could change his mind. Keeping his eyes fixed on Ramza, he held it out behind his back and, as intended, one of the others took it from his hand.

After a few moments the inane grin was back on Ramza's face. Well, at least he isn't a belligerent drunk, Ladd thought – belligerent drunk Ramza was not a fun thought! He put one arm around the younger man's shoulders and began to steer him to the back of the inn.

"Come on, laddie, there's a small sitting room that no-one was using, a while back. We'll go there and you can have a sit down and we'll see if we can get you sobered up a bit. Mustadio, would you please go and ask the landlord if we could have a very large, very strong pot of coffee brought to the back sitting room... Liss, you coming with us?" She nodded and followed, looking perplexed.

There was an open window on the way, and Ladd moved away from Ramza and took the bottle from Alicia, hefting it in his hand.

"There's more than half a bottle of brandy here, how are you _this_ drunk?"

"'S'not the first one."

"Oh!" He poured the remainder out of the window, ignoring Ramza's yelp of protest.

* * *

Twenty minutes and two cups of strong coffee later, Ladd finally asked the question he'd been wanting to since seeing the bottle.

"What's this all about, Ramza?" Ramza gave him a long, pained look, then dropped his head into his hands.

"Delita. Met him down at the docks. No Griffon Knights, just one of... whatever he is, these days."

"He's Southern Sky, isn't he? You said he must have done it to get back at..." Ladd trailed off, knowing that he shouldn't mention that in front of the other two.

Ramza's voice when he replied was slightly deeper - Ramza had an ear for mimicry, sometimes.

"'Delve no deeper into matters of royal maidens...or those of sacred stones.'" His voice went back to normal, though alcohol still had it lacking its usual precise enunciation. "He's in this up to his neck, as well! Gods! Couldn't I have _one_ brother who isn't a duplicitous, back-stabbing bastard?!"

"You're certainly sobering up if you can get your tongue round 'duplicitous'!" Ladd said, drily. He felt someone tug on his arm. He turned to an angry-looking Alicia.

"What does he mean, 'brother' – that man's his _brother_?"

"No, but they _were_ brought up together. I thought you _knew_ – I know he told Lady Agrias that much." He dropped his voice as he moved a little away from Ramza. "Look, it's not my place to explain, but I'm going to try to get him to tell you all about himself once we have the Princess and Lady Agrias back, I think he might be ready to, by then."

Mustadio was leaning against the wall nearby, arms folded, a speculative look on his face.

"Yeah! That's a story I _really_ want to hear, too." Was all the comment he passed.

"Stop talking about me! You're being _really_ obvious! _And_ rude!" Came from behind Ladd, who rolled his eyes.

"So we have another Holy Knight to deal with when we get back to Lionel?" Ladd asked, turning back to Ramza.

"I... don't know for sure. I don't want... I don't know if I _could_ fight Delita. He's..." Ramza trailed off and his head dropped back into his hands. "I may have to, and I think he's probably more powerful than Lady Agrias. Physical strength plays a role in sword techniques... my brothers are..." He trailed off, looking up with wide eyes at Alicia, a hand over his mouth.

"Yeah, that's going to be _quite_ the story!" Mustadio said quietly.

"No wonder Agrias finds you so damned frustrating! And you'll still refuse to tell me if I ask, won't you?" Alicia asked waspishly, and stalked out of the room, not waiting for an answer.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Did I make it obvious enough that Agrias was really pissed off at herself for having left her sword behind?

P.S. - The one-shot I promised is coming - I just can't get the ending to work at the moment. It should still be up reasonably soon, once I can get things to come together the way I want them to.


	16. 16 - Your Princess is in Another Castle

**Vignette 16 – Sorry, Agrias, But Your Princess is in Another Castle**

_Cardinal's Palace, Lionel, Early Morning_

A jolting that she felt through her whole upper body and a loud metallic clang woke Agrias, and after a few moments of groggy incomprehension, she realised that someone had kicked her in her armoured shoulder. Honestly, she was surprised to have woken at all. If the positions had been reversed, and she'd managed to bind someone into an enchanted sleep, who had done as she had, she's have simply killed that person while they slept. She wouldn't have liked herself much for doing it, but she'd have done the expedient thing – when it came down to it, she really didn't much enjoy her role as a Lionsguard Captain, but she did what was necessary.

Despite the kick, she realised that she was unlikely to be about to receive a beating, since she was still in her armour – apart from her broken greave, of course. Dammit, but sleeping in armour left one aching in so many different places.

She sat up slowly, feigning even more sluggishness than she felt, though emerging from what she thought must have been hours of enchanted sleep had left her pretty groggy, without much need to feign it. Of course she couldn't be sure how long she'd been out; she was in a windowless cell. Her hands were bound tightly with stout rope, but not her feet, which left her with very few options, but still some, perhaps, if an opportunity presented itself.

The kick, it appeared, had been courtesy of the Cardinal's heavy boots. He was in his elaborate clergyman's open-fronted robes but she thought she could see the very end of the hilt of a sword peeking out. He must have followed her muzzy gaze, because he hitched the robe a little further open to confirmed that he was, indeed, wearing a sword. He gave her a self-satisfied nod.

"You know what I am, I imagine?"

"Are you referring to being a Fell Knight, or the fact that you are smug, sacrilegious, double-crossing _scum_?" She bit out. Dammit, _why_ couldn't she keep her stupid big mouth shut? This man had all the power here; angering him was _not_ in her best interest. She'd also just let him know that the grogginess had mostly been an act. His only reaction was to raise a brow.

"I'm not a sacrilegious man, my dear." Was the shockingly mild response. "I simply do what the Church needs me to do. What I have done, and what I will do with regards to the Princess is merely... necessity." She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of asking, but she had to.

"What you have done with Ovelia... and what you will do?" She had to do better at hiding that quaver in her voice.

"So far I've had very little done to her. She's been moved to less commodious lodgings, of course – moved out of the Palace altogether, in fact... just a precaution, you understand. Unfortunately, I won't be able to leave her as unharmed as she currently is. We have an understanding with Duke Larg. You've caused an awful lot of trouble, you know. The Princess really was supposed to reach the Capital... of course once she was there she was due to die of an 'illness'. It was only if things went wrong with that plan that Gaffgarion was to have killed her more expeditiously.

"Now... well, she is a devout little thing, is she not? It ought to be some comfort to her that she will die at the same place as Saint Ajora, don't you think? The execution will be the day after tomorrow."

"Sounding like a story-book villain - does it just come naturally, or have you been practising your moustache-twirling in front of the mirror?" She began to berate herself again, but then stopped; after calling him what she had before, she thought this was unlikely to earn her an immediate beheading either.

"And what would your story-book villain do now? Leer and say 'I do like a girl with spirit?' Something like that. Well I don't and your 'spirit' has earned you a trial for murder and the certainty of following your precious Princess into dangling from a noose!"

_Then what do I have to lose? It'll never work, but if they're going to kill me anyway... _She'd come up with a lunatic plan in the few moments since she'd seen the sword.

As the Cardinal looked blandly at her, for a moment, she opened her eyes very wide and raised her bound hands to cover her mouth, as if perhaps shocked and horrified. The Cardinal began to turn away, hints of a self-satisfied smile playing around his mouth, just as she completed the last murmured word of the incantation. She yanked her hands away from her face, to prevent her harming herself more than she had to, as the bonds at her wrists burst into flame. She knew a grand total of two basic black magic spells; luckily, Fire was one of them.

The Cardinal spun on his heel, eyes and mouth wide in shock, the two guards looked much the same. So while he was startled, she used her still-joined, flaming, metal encased hands to club him in the side of the bald head – stupid of them to leave her her gauntlets in place. To her shock he went down, seemingly unconscious, and she almost dove for the sword, wrenching her hands apart, as she did.

_My gods, it's worked_, she thought, holding the weapon threateningly in front of her – the two guards had frozen, having barely covered half the distance and when she gestured with her free hand, they backed up to the wall they had previously been standing against. Of course, she'd just, effectively, roasted her own hands inside her gauntlets. They were painful, but nothing she couldn't deal with, this pumped full of adrenaline.

_How the hell did it work? I have no hand-to-hand training. All I know are sword techniques... much like him, of __**course**__!_ That was the only way she had managed this – he would have as little training as she and she was younger, fitter and he probably didn't train actively, even with the sword, any more – Cardinals didn't, she supposed.

"You two," she said to the two guards, "slowly put your swords and shields on the ground and then slowly make your way around the walls of the cell until you are each standing in one of the far corners of the room. If you don't do what I've told you, to the letter, I kill your Cardinal, then you, understand?" They nodded and did as they were told. It was probably a credible threat – her body count yesterday was eighteen, even if two-thirds of them had been revived – nineteen if one included Ovelia! She turned so that she could see both men.

"Whichever of you has the key to this cell, throw it to me." That was an assumption; they might have arranged to have others wait outside to let them out, but she got lucky and the one to her right threw it at her free hand. She missed the catch, her scorched hand painfully slow and lacking dexterity. She bent and, never taking her eyes from the two men, blindly scrabbled on the ground until she found it.

"Divine Ruination can reach twice the distance between the cell door and either of you," she said, knowing it would barely reach, "so I suggest that you wait until I've locked you in, before you move to check him – he's still breathing." _ Which was **such** a pity! Bastard!  
_

She backed away from them, bending as she neared the door and grabbing one of the men's shields. She groped for the lock and fitted the key into it and, still watching the men, turned it. She motioned with her sword and saw, with a grim satisfaction, both men flinch. In fact she had sent a Hallowed Bolt through the door behind herself. She yanked the door open as she whirled around, throwing herself through it, desperately hoping that there would be no Spellblade lying in wait, this time!

There wasn't. In fact, to her surprise, there was no-one. She slammed the door shut and had managed to turn the key in the lock, just before she heard a thump and felt a tremor beneath her hand. Slumping with her back against the door, she began to intone Cure, for her hands. Damnation, but they were painful! To her chagrin, it took two castings of the healing spell to subdue the pain entirely, which meant she had no magical potential left. She hoped to hell she didn't need it!

She took a brief look at her newly stolen equipment. The shield was a very decent one, the sword...

"The old bastard!" She muttered. The sword was her own Coral Sword – the new one that she had purchased the day before – the Cardinal had possibly been intending to use her own sword against her.

There was a thought, niggling away at the back of her mind, that this was all too easy; there was no way in Ivalice she should have gotten away with that! No time to think of that now, though. The cells neighbouring her own were unoccupied – so Ovelia may or may not still be in the Palace, but she wasn't here.

What to do? She couldn't rescue the Princess if she were dead, and no-one was going to leave her simply Sleeping, this time, if she waged another one-woman-war on the Palace! It wasn't as if anyone was going to help her find Ovelia either, so she could run randomly through the Palace, in the hope that the Cardinal had been lying about Ovelia's new location, and that she wouldn't run into Ser Aliste, or the other Spellblade, or she could try to get out of the grounds and head for Golgollada Gallows, in the hope that he wasn't lying about that.

'In the hope'? Hope? Was that the best she had to rely on?

What made most sense? If she was the Cardinal, after coming so close to losing Ovelia, that valuable bargaining-chip, she _would_ have moved her out of the Palace. She had no idea where to, though. So the Gallows it was. Damn! She hadn't been lying when she'd told Ser Aliste that Divine Ruination was the ideal technique for fighting in narrow corridors – she was never quite as effective in the open – not without more help.

Lavian, Alicia and the sell-swords; if only she had time to get to Goug... Oh gods, she hadn't thought – the Cardinal wouldn't have sent anyone to 'see the matter is dealt with', those had just been empty words! Were the others even alive?

No, she wouldn't believe them dead, if she could assault a Cardinal's Palace alone, the five of them could survive whatever they had faced in Goug... she _hoped_. That damned word again!

She'd been running through the subterranean levels of the Palace while she thought, but now she came upon a small winding staircase up. She slowed and climbed it cautiously, hoping it didn't lead to the kitchens or any other part of the servants' domain. Servants' quarters were always the most populous part of any large establishment. Surprisingly, it brought her out into the wing containing the guest quarters, close to where Ramza, Ladd and Mustadio had been housed. She couldn't believe how lucky she had been so far! 'When something seems too good to be true, it usually is' she remembered her old Nurse telling her when she was a little girl.

_Should_ she check Ovelia's quarters? No, the Cardinal hadn't been lying about that much, she felt sure; Ovelia would not be there any more. Besides, if she had been, there would have been guards here, like yesterday. She'd have to head for the Gallows and hope for a miracle. _ If _she could get out of the grounds. She pelted down the corridor for the nearest exit, her sabatons making an unbearably loud ringing noise, as she ran along the flagstones.

Having sent a Hallowed Bolt ahead of herself, through the door, she cautiously opened it, ready with another sword technique if there was a guard and she'd missed him or her. Nothing... no-one. She was becoming increasingly disconcerted with the ease of all this.

It was the weird crepuscular almost-light of near-dawn outside. _Did I really just think 'crepuscular'?, _Agrias thought to herself, _I really have been spending too much time occupying myself playing silly word-games with Ovelia, if __**that**__ is coming readily to mind!_

Head straight South to the closest gate and hope she could fight or sneak her way out? Unlikely. Head North and hope that her rope was still tied to the top of the wall? If she ran as fast as she could, she should be at the North Gate in under ten minutes, and there was no sign of the sun peaking over the horizon yet. It was the right time of year for the 'false dawn' to be showing in the sky and she hoped like hell that that was what this was. But if it was, that made it incredibly early, so what had the Cardinal been doing in her cell, rather than waiting for day to come?

She'd consider all the questions relating to this odd morning soon, but if this was true dawn, she had to run, and run fast, for the North Gate to have a hope of getting out before it was light and she became much more easy to spot!

She couldn't believe her luck when the rope had still been there, and she was more than half down the far side of the wall when she finally heard shouts. Her luck had to run out _now_?

* * *

_South End of Balias Swale, Early Evening_

Ladd was checking over the new baby chocobo. They'd had to stop earlier than they would have liked that evening due to the little thing. Lavian, who he had been erecting their tents, came over frowning slightly.

"Hey there, gorgeous." He grinned at her.

She gave him a small tired smile, going up onto the balls of her feet to give him a brief kiss.

"Can _you_ stop him insisting I have to take over being in charge? He's still going on and on about it! It's driving me up the wall."

He crouched down by the chick and checked its claws.

"You know I've already tried. I think he terrified himself, drinking so much last night. The hangover today probably isn't helping, either. Look... he... something happened about a year and a half ago... someone... died. He tried to save her, but he was too late... he can't forgive himself and that made him start drinking – a lot. The way I understand it he drank himself silly for about ten months before he realised that he had to stop, so...

"But he's a good kid. And you've seen for yourself, the past few days, he thrives on responsibility. Just don't take it off him, whatever he says. He'll get past this. Couple of days and he'll be fine! Just do your best to ignore it!"

"_I_ know that, _you_ know that, Liss and Mustadio know it, too. Ramza's the only one who thinks getting drunk _once_ makes him incapable of leading a team!"

He finally decided that the baby didn't seemed to have suffered from the day's long walk, so he offered her his arm and they went back to the others who were around the camp-fire.

* * *

_Second Watch_

"She just won't listen!"

"Because she's _sensible_."

"I... huh? Ladd, you _know_ I can't be responsible for a team if I can give in to temptation so easily!"

"For the gods' sake, Ramza, how often when we've been in a bar, or the rest of us have sat round the fire with a pint-pot have you wanted a drink?"

"_Every _time. _That's_ the point!"

"And you've never given in. Not, at least, until you had something of a major personal crisis triggering it. _That's_ the point! It's not likely to happen again."

There was a couple of minutes of silence, Ramza staring into the fire while Ladd watched him out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't suppose _you'd_ reconsider taking the lead?" Ramza asked. "You're proving damned good at making me do what you want, and that's nine-tenths of leadership!"

Ladd just laughed and ignored the question.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

The whole point of this one was Agrias' escape, and I knew, more or less, how that went from the start. Except that Ramza was going to have been beating himself up, big-time, all day and trying to make Lavian take over as leader, I had no idea what was happening with the others, so I eventually just decided on a straightforward conversation about it. I wrote it a couple of different ways, and in the end took a snippet of each. Those snippets have taken a couple of weeks to write, though, while Agrias' escape was done with in a couple of days... oh well...

The one-shot I've been promising forever (it feels like) should go up tomorrow or Monday, after a final proof-read. It's still far from perfect, but, then, what is perfect?


	17. 17 - Fragile, Handle with Care

**Seiuchi:** You said in your review that you were looking forward to this one for Ramza's identity reveal – sorry that'll be the next one.

The long-promised one-shot's up (even if it is now a two-shot) – called Loose Ends. I'd really appreciate people reviewing it and giving honest opinions on ways to improve it (unless it's just my authorial not-entirely-happy-with-this-wish-I'd-never-said-I-was-going-to-write-the-damned-thing feeling that's making me paranoid that it's a bit crap.)

This is one of the shortest vignettes of this set - I'm afraid (unless you prefer them short, then I'm not afraid). The next one should be longer... probably.

Picking up from the end of the Balias Swale battle/cut-scene (including the first three lines of dialogue):

* * *

**Vignette 17 – Fragile, Handle with Care**

_Balias Swale, Mid-morning_

Agrias sent a Cleansing Strike through the final one of her pursuers and sank to the ground in exhaustion as the archer dropped dead, to the hillside. Her last unenchanted sleep had been well over forty-eight hours before. She tried to feel pleased, relieved, _anything_ and could only dredge up a very slight benumbed-surprise that she'd somehow managed to run into the others.

"Lady Agrias?" That was Ramza, who'd been closest to her at the end of the skirmish - _wish to hell he'd stop using my title all the time! I know why Ovelia's forever trying to get us to drop the 'Highnesses'. Gods! Ovelia! _"Are you all right?" _Do I **seem** all right, idiot boy? _

She couldn't find the energy to reply aloud, for the moment. She tried pushing herself off the ground, and back to her feet, but couldn't seem to find the balance to do it. She felt a strong hand under either armpit, hauling her upwards and then shifting to grip her arms and steady her until she re-gained her equilibrium – it wasn't easy; she was rather light-headed.

"I'm fine," she lied blatantly, "but there's no time for that. We must hurry to the princess! They're taking her to the Golgollada Gallows. It's not far, but we've little time!"

"Of course. With all haste!" Ramza replied, one hand still under her elbow, just in case. She noticed him studying her, clearly _not_ making 'all haste'.

"Ramza, we need to _go_!"

"Are you _certain_ that you can? You look terri... exhausted!"

"I am, but what does that matter? We have to head to the Gallows!"

"We will, very soon. When did you last rest or eat?"

"I'm not important!" He didn't respond, merely folding his arms and raising his brows, looking uncharacteristically stubborn. "I... I was under a Sleep enchantment for a few hours, until perhaps an hour before dawn... yesterday..." When had she eaten? Oh, yes, she'd forced herself to 'refuel' while she'd waited for dusk to make her rescue attempt on Ovelia. "It's been nearly two days since I ate."

"Well I'm sure I can accurately predict the sort of reception that suggesting that you take a couple of hours' nap would have, right now, but you _are_ going to eat something before we set out again!"

She narrowed her eyes at his back as he strode to Boco and the packs._ Huh! My own stupid fault for putting him in charge, now he acts like he's... in charge... oh! He's right, I __**am**__ exhausted! My brain's stopped working._

Lavian and Alicia, who had been on the other side of the river, had forded it and were closing in. She really didn't want to talk to them, to admit...

"Agrias?"

"Captain?" They said at the same time.

She looked across at them, as they hurried the last few steps to her. She didn't, she couldn't... Suddenly her knees went from beneath her and she thumped back to the ground, hard.

"I'm a total failure. They're going to kill Ovelia and I've completely failed in my duty to protect her!" She buried her face in her hands, sobbing almost hysterically.

* * *

_Northern Balias Swale, Evening_

Mustadio had had longer to study his most recent companions and he thought he had them fairly well pegged... well maybe not Ramza, yet, but he'd get to that. He'd also thought, even before they'd left Lionel, that he'd understood who Agrias was. Today, though, had proved that he didn't; the woman was a mass of contradictions. This was emphasised by the fact that she was currently clinging to him, crying quietly.

She'd told them all what had happened at Lionel as they'd walked in the direction of the Gallows that afternoon. Her voice had been precise but very distant. She'd killed _eighteen _people? Okay, twelve had been revived but... Even though she was practically sleepwalking she hadn't looked happy about it, but that she was even able to do it and, from what he could gather, take almost no harm herself, was just mind-boggling! He hadn't understood how thoroughly her identity was that of a warrior, even though he'd already seen her fight and even kill, a couple of times.

He was a machinist, specialising in gunsmithing; he'd still never killed a human-being. He'd done his best to mentally prepare himself for it, after they entered Goug, and he still honestly believed that, had he not been captured and had his gun taken away, he would have done it, in order to free his dad, but he still hadn't had his resolve tested. He knew it meant that he simply couldn't understand this aspect of her, or any of the others, for that matter... not yet. He had to make a conscious effort not to shudder at that last thought – he'd committed himself to this, that meant that he'd committed himself to kill, when necessary. He wouldn't let the others down.

_Eighteen people, six gone to crystal_, he thought, as he gently rubbed her back, while she soaked his shirt with tears. And she had overpowered the Cardinal and taken his sword – another sword technique user, which apparently made that a particularly impressive feat, or so the others seemed to think – and his two guards, in order to escape.

She could be obnoxiously bossy, bad-tempered, suspicious and sarcastic, he'd known all that from the first, yet she was loyal, protective to a fault, heartbreakingly vulnerable right now... and when she smiled, her whole face lit up with a delicate beauty. She moved with the confidence of one who could kill you, as soon as look at you, but out of armour, without a sword in her hand, that simply appeared as natural elegance and grace and made her seem rather ladylike – until she opened her mouth and spoke with characteristic bluntness – like the soldier she was.

Yes, the woman was a mass of contradictions which intrigued and attracted him, even though he knew anyone with 'Lady' in front of her name wasn't for him! He could dream, couldn't he? And flirt a bit, which usually left her annoyed, though occasionally she would be a little flustered.

He hadn't been stupid enough to try that, this evening; and he hadn't even considered it. The main thing she needed was some comfort, then a long sleep. 'I'm a total failure' followed by that desperate crying that morning had left him very worried about her. The other two women had done their best to look after her but they hadn't offered her physical comfort, even though, to Mustadio, it seemed obvious that Agrias just needed someone to hold her for a while - let her cry again, if she needed to - after all the stresses and strains of the last few days. Presumably, she was used to being in control in front of her subordinate knights and never gave way like that.

That morning, the tears had come rapidly and desperately, but she hadn't allowed herself that indulgence for long, visibly making an effort to pull herself back together after only a couple of minutes and climbing again to her feet, drying her tears with the heels of her hands in a very child-like gesture and muttering an _apology_, of all things!

Since they'd stopped for the evening, he'd thought about little else but how best to help her, and it had always come back to offering physical comfort. She'd practically vibrated like a lute-string under tension the whole time he'd known her, and she still did, but it was clear to him, at least, that her current tenseness was a mixture of guilt and emotional fragility rather than the usual suspicion, general crankiness and stress that seemed to have normally been its cause.

So after eating, as she'd been staring sightlessly into the fire, knees pulled up to her chest, he'd moved to sit next to her on the grassy bank. He'd laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, which had made her jump.

"Agrias, please try not to misinterpret this, but you look like you could use a hug." She'd given him a hard, suspicious look. "I _said_ to try not to misinterpret the offer; I'm not being a lech, I promise, but you've had a horrible few days, I just thought you might want someone to hold you for a while. Maybe have a cry – no-one's going to judge if you need that too." Apart from maybe herself, he thought with a sigh. "Well, it was just a thought, and the offer's there." He'd added, after a few moments as he lifted his hand from her shoulder.

She'd hung her head, and the lack of verbal response from a woman who, at best, could always be said to be unafraid to speak her mind and, at worst, could be called an aggressively mouthy, caustic-tongued bitch, said everything about just how bad she was feeling, right now. After, perhaps, a quarter of a minute she'd just nodded her head.

Carefully, in case he'd misinterpreted that gesture, he put an arm around her shoulder. When she'd leaned into him, he'd slowly gathered her to him, putting both arms around her, but ready to immediately let go, the moment she showed any sign of discomfort about the situation. She hadn't, resting her cheek against his chest and slipping her arms around his waist. Since she'd already removed her armour, he'd been able to begin to rub her back as he'd felt the first convulsive sob. Yes she really had needed a good cry, he'd thought.

It had taken perhaps twenty minutes for her sobs to subside into stertorous breaths and still more minutes before she'd finally pulled away from him. Plenty of time for him to receive a huge variety of strange looks from everyone else around the camp-fire.

Ramza seemed shocked and more than a little horrified, as did Ladd, though perhaps without as much horror. Lavian seemed simply curious, while Alicia seemed a little suspicious, perhaps thinking he was trying to take advantage. All of them had tended towards concern, though, as her crying continued past the first couple of minutes. He hadn't worried at first, but after ten or fifteen minutes even he had changed his mind.

Just how badly had all of this affected her? Was she even going to be able to cope tomorrow, or had it all been too much? She was strong and he was sure she would recover, given time, but this level of fragility said, perhaps, that her spirit had been broken – though, hopefully, only a little.

Eventually she did pull back, though. After a few moments her voice, which had a very slightly husky quality at any time, came low and almost rough.

"Sorry about that... and thank-you."

"Don't apologise... Are you feeling any better?" He asked quietly.

"A bit, maybe. Yes... thank-you." Her whole demeanour was awkward now and she kept her eyes down. "I should probably go to bed, now, I'm worse than exhausted." She got up to do just that. Then she paused without turning back to face him.

"Mustadio, what's a fulcrum?"

"A... huh? What?"

"Fulcrum?"

"Er... it's the point in a machine that supports a lever in place, even as the lever pivots around it - a peg or similar that acts as a pivot point."

"Oh... good... I had it right, then." She said vaguely.

He stared into the fire for a few moments, trying to work out what that last question had been about, then he gave up and went back to thinking about her worrying emotional fragility. She'd definitely needed comfort and he'd been determined to offer her what he could, but why did he think she would somehow decide later to blame him for encouraging her to give into 'weakness'?... Or to showing 'weakness' openly, anyway? Surely... He knew that she valued her own ability to remain in control at all times – yes, she might well blame him for encouraging this. He sighed deeply.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

If I'd been through what Agrias has been through, I'd be more than ready to fall apart completely! Also, she's been deprived of hugs for a long while now (and everyone needs a hug sometimes) – she 'said' as much in Vignette 2.

The actress who voices Agrias, in the two fmv cut-scenes she's in, does have a somewhat husky/smoky voice, and it seems to suit the character, so Agrias' voice is slightly husky.


	18. 18 - 'You are a Beoulve'

I owe everyone who was reading this regularly a huge apology. My laptop broke just after the last vignette was posted, and that took a while to get fixed. Once it was, I had lost all momentum and motivation and, though I kept trying to get it back, I struggled. After a couple of months, the laptop decided to break again (it's getting old!) and by the time I got it back that time, my never-fantastic health had taken a nose-dive and besides which, I could barely even remember what I had intended to do with the rest of this chapter of the game. Anyway, enough excuses, I reread everything I had written so far, over the past few days, and I think I'm more or less back on track.

This one has turned into detailed back-story of Ramza's origins – not exactly what I originally intended, but I think it's OK, especially with not updating in such a while. Hopefully this peek into my head-canon works as a kind of a recap and eases everyone back in.

* * *

**Vignette 18 –****'You **_**are**_** a Beoulve'**

_Half a Mile from Golgollada Gallows, mid-afternoon_

Ramza had observed Lady Agrias closely that morning after they all rose for the day and had initially decided that, after her break-down the previous evening, he'd retain the group's leadership for a day or two longer, allowing her more recovery time.

Executions were always carried out close to sunset; an old tradition about the ending of life at the ending of the day. So he anticipated that they had at least two hours to wait, as the Gallows appeared in the distance. He called a halt, still within the cover of the surrounding forest.

Agrias had been relatively quiet, throughout the day, but she had seemed less distracted than the previous day, even if she drew away from Mustadio whenever he came too near. Ramza wondered if that was annoyance or embarrassment.

"My Lady, how would you like us to deploy?" Ramza asked, deciding that, as she seemed relatively well and she was the most heavily 'invested' in this rescue, she really should be allowed to pick up the leadership reins again.

"I... you go ahead, I'd rather not take... I'd just rather not, for now." She said, apparently trying to keep her face bland and expressionless. Ramza thought, though, that she'd looked a little... spooked, for just a moment, before she achieved a blank face.

"All right... Okay, this is a rescue operation, so we need to be very careful until we have secured Princess Ovelia. Mustadio, Ladd, you see the gatehouse, there?" Nods. "If you can, get up to the top of it. Status effects are our friends here, until we have her, unless you can make a clean kill that in no way endangers the princess. Mustadio, Arm Shot to anyone close to the princess or anyone who can hit us or her at range, Arm Shots or Legs Shots on anyone else with a sword or dagger who isn't right next to her, okay? I'm going in as a Mystic to be able to do much the same, though with Time Magick as my secondary, I'll try for a Stop where I can too – that's even better. Ladd, careful where you send your arrows, don't risk the princess unless the immediate threat from her captors seems greater than that of being hit by a stray arrow..."

The instructions went on, Ramza being as specific as he could without knowing the exact circumstances. Agrias, as much as she didn't want to take responsibility right then, listened attentively, ready to jump in and countermand anything that Ramza said that might increase the danger to the princess, or that just seemed unnecessarily risky in general.

The strategy he was proposing was careful and methodical; he had clearly given some thought to how best to both set up an ambush, if they arrived before Ovelia's captors, and how to deal with the situation if they weren't the first on the scene. Unfortunately, they didn't know any details of the terrain on which they would be fighting, so he was having to make educated guesses, based on what little they could see in the distance but it all seemed reasonable to her.

Agrias tried to work out if this would have been her strategy had she not refused to take charge just then. She wasn't sure – not identical she was certain, two commanders would never use _exactly _ the same plans in a complex situation, but fairly close; if anything, he was a little _more_ conservative in his approach. After having coming up with nothing better than temporarily _killing_ the princess in order to 'save' her, back at Lionel - something which hadn't succeeded in the long-run, anyway - she decided that a conservative approach was probably a very good thing.

The boy was good at this, no matter how much he downplayed his own abilities... though, actually, she hadn't noticed him doing that nearly so much since she had rejoined them – perhaps the lingering traces of Gaffgarion's influence were finally dissipating?...

At eighteen?... She'd been on the front lines in the war, just been promoted to Captain, Ivan and Lavian as her First and Second Lieutenants. She'd been over-confident... or... well... more ignorant and inexperienced but, though she had never put strategies in place that deliberately endangered her men, she had risked more than she should have and a few may have died who probably should have survived, due to the inexperienced way she handled things, at first.

Ramza, of course, didn't have a company of eighty or ninety foot-soldiers here to command, but the principles were the same. He, though, was a careful commander, who seemed to weigh every word that came out of his mouth, and she was impressed with him in this role. Perhaps...

"Lady Agrias... er... I don't think... I mean..." And suddenly all of the confident commanding tone had left Ramza's voice. Gods! Did she really intimidate the boy _that_ much?

"Ramza, we're working with your strategy here, and it seems a very sound one – what would you have me do?" She asked, deliberately making her voice slightly deferential. He gaped at her for a moment, then visibly seemed to pull himself together. "Well... For you, in particular, the strategy is very simple: Unless you end up under too much pressure, in which case it would make sense for you and Lady Alicia to withdraw to the top of the gatehouse like the rest of us, you really just need to be doing as much damage as possible – your status effects simply aren't reliable enough to cherry-pick the techniques you use, to achieve those – so just keep hitting as many as you can, as hard as you can."

She nodded and thought about giving him a salute, just in fun, but that would have seemed like mockery and she certainly didn't want to knock his confidence again, so she just nodded.

* * *

_Golgollada Gallows, late-afternoon_

"That twisted old arsehole can only teleport within a very limited range, so you two stay up there with your gun and your bow for the next few minutes and if you spot him, _shoot him_! Leg Shot _and_ Arm Shot, if you can, Mustadio, so we can catch him, but dead'll do, if there's no other way!" Ramza called up to Mustadio and Ladd who had done as planned and climbed to the top of the gatehouse during the fight and were still up there. He had little hope; Gaffgarion was far too crafty to be caught so easily.

"I'm sorry about my language, Lady Agrias. If you come here, my Lady, I can heal that." He said, turning to her as she came up to him.

"Why thank-you, Lord Ramza." She said with an almost sickly sweet smile, as he began to intone Cure for her arrow-sliced arm. He stumbled over the words of the incantation and gave her a hard look – one was suppose to try _not_ to distract anyone while they were intoning a spell, as a rule - and began again. 'You _are_ a Beoulve' she had said during the fight, as if she had known, or suspected. So, even after saying that he had proved himself trustworthy, was all hell about to break loose?

He finished the Cure and mentally prepared himself for the storm that was about to break over him. It didn't come. He spoke tentatively, sounding more like Gaffgarion's 'useless bastard' than he had in a while.

"Er... I'd, um... really rather you didn't use my title, my Lady."

"'My Lady'? Why don't we just agree to drop _all_ titles, _my Lord_? I'm fed up of hearing mine from you, too. Considering your eldest brother's involvement in all of this, I can see why you didn't want us to know who you were, but couldn't you have at least said something after you came to my rescue, yesterday?" She asked, and though she appeared to have a good rein on her temper, her hands had made their way to her hips; body language which Ramza had learned to be wary of. He gathered himself before he spoke.

"Yesterday didn't seem like a good day and the reasons for me reverting to my birth-name go back further than Dycedarg's current plots." He said. "There are very good reasons why, despite my love for my sister and my reverence for my father's memory, I don't want to be associated with the Beoulves. House Beoulve is a _mockery_ of what it once was, and still ought to be... _would_ be if Dycedarg and Zal had even as much honour split _between them_ as my father had in his smallest toe!" He added bitterly. She looked at him, clearly confused. There was a long pause.

"The most we could manage is half-an-hour's travel tonight, the forest becomes too thick to see by moonlight, further down the valley and, after a fight like that, we could do with a rest and something to eat." She said, surprising him again with the equanimity of her tone. "Perhaps you can explain all of this while we set up camp just outside the gatehouse."

"I suppose I ought to. You all deserve at least that much. I warn you, it's a very long story, though." He said, after a long pause.

He looked at Agrias suspiciously; either losing Ovelia for a second time really had broken her spirit, to some degree, or she was up to something, he decided.

"We have all evening." She said simply. "Start with exactly what you meant by 'reverting to your birth-name'." She motioned for all of the others to join them, they'd been close enough to have heard the gist and it was getting darker and darker, Ladd and Mustadio would not be able to spot Gaffgarion now, even if he was still about.

He waited until they had built a campfire and made basic preparations for the night before beginning his tale, staring intently into the flames as he spoke.

"My parents didn't marry until I was five years old." He said simply. "I didn't lie – I was '_born _on the wrong side of the blanket' I just... didn't stay there... exactly. Just before I began at the Akademy, my father sat me down and explained what had happened between my mother and himself.

"Father had known my mother all of her life, she was the daughter of one of his tenant farmers – I've mentioned that my grandparents breed chocobos, I believe. Until a couple of years after mother was born they were your typical small-holders, barely scraping by, with what little land they had. Father though, always had a lot of respect for my grandfather, so when he needed a more reliable source of chocobos for his cavalry, in the early days of the war, he asked my grandfather to turn his farm over to breeding them for the war effort. And they're good chocobos, the Lugria name is well known by choco-fanciers throughout Gallione – at least by those who can afford the birds.

"But they didn't become comfortably-off, the way they are now, overnight. My mother went out to work as a maid when she was ten, and when she was twelve she gained work as an under-housemaid at Beoulve Manor. She wasn't a nursery maid, but because she was used to looking after her younger brothers, sisters and cousins, she was occasionally left in charge of Zalbaag when his nurse needed a break or had a half-day. A few weeks before her thirteenth birthday she was taking him out for a walk when he tripped coming down the stairs and he knocked himself out during the fall.

"My mother panicked and she, apparently, began to pray he was all right, or... something like that, then suddenly Zalbaag was sitting up looking much better and she said she had a blinding headache. It was winter, so my father was home between campaign seasons, and he happened to come into the hallway just as she performed her 'Chant' as she ended up always calling it – you saw how it works yesterday, when I used it on Mustadio – his stomach wound healed up almost completely while I absorbed perhaps half of the damage. My parents called it a spontaneous manifestation of magick when they told me about it, and mother taught it to me and the others and we just accepted that because we were children, but I know now that sort of manifestation is a pretty extraordinary thing...

"Anyway, my Father spoke to my mother, then to her parents, and on the understanding that she would lend her aid to the war effort for a few years, once she graduated, he arranged and paid for her to attend the Magickal Akademy at Gariland to tap into her obvious gift. So she became, predominantly, a white mage and by the time she graduated, at sixteen, she was considered to be very talented. She joined the Medical Corps and, by the time my father was widowed when she was about twenty, she was a Master white mage.

"Father returned to the front after an extended period at home with Zalbaag, after Lady Gerafra's death – that was Zalbaag and Dycedarg's mother. When he returned to the front, months later, his personal medic, who was an elderly man, had retired during my father's absence and he didn't appoint another. So when he broke his ankle, a few months later, falling off a chocobo late one night on his return to camp, and it happened to be my mother who found him with his foot still caught in the stirrup, she took care of him, and when it took longer than expected to heal up completely, he appointed her his new medic."

"Father said nothing happened between them for some weeks – mother was only a couple of months older than Dycedarg, after all, and so, as I understand it, my father tried not to think about her that way – young enough to be his daughter; daughter of his most respected tenant farmer, and all that. But... things _did_ happened – as they will, I suppose – and she ended up pregnant with me. Father was very clear, when he told me all this, that he would have liked to have married her, from the start of the affair but he, in his words, did 'the most dishonourable thing imaginable' and put off talking to her about it because he was busy finalising Dycedarg's wedding to asecond cousin of the King and he didn't want to muddy the waters by announcing that he was about to marry a commoner; that probably would have scuppered the whole thing.

"But when mother told him that she was pregnant, he told her immediately that they had to marry and she told him she wouldn't. She wouldn't bring disgrace on him or his family by marrying him – so she said – I'd guess that there was probably more than that... a lot of very mixed feelings... but that's apparently what she told him, anyway..."

"So he bought her a large town-house in Eagrose and she came home from the war until I was born. She went almost straight back to the front, to my father, and I was given to a wet nurse. Only, she fell pregnant with Alma almost immediately and came home again. Father was, apparently, even more insistent that she marry him, with Alma on the way, and she was equally firm that she wouldn't."

"Father said that he would ask her, periodically, to change her mind about them marrying, and she never would tell him why she eventually changed her mind but she did, in the end. He was in great favour with both the old Duke and the King, at the time, and so he was able to petition the King, with the Duke's help, to draw up papers declaring that Alma and I were legitimate and always had been. It's not entirely unique – there have been various instances where the bastard children of royalty both here and in Ordallia have been declared legitimate in order to try to secure the royal succession. It is the first time it was done for non-royals though... and at least Alma and I can't start any succession wars – which is what has always happened when royalty have tried it!

"It has to be said that no legitimated royal bastard has managed to retain either throne, _because_ of that questionable legitimacy, and so precedent suggests that mine and Alma's claim to be completely legitimate is on somewhat shaky ground. However, as things stand, I am usually considered to be the third, _legitimate_ son of Lord Barbaneth Beoulve – at least by everyone apart from my father's cousins who I displaced in the succession to the Earldom! Not that it makes much difference; Zalbaag and Dycedarg are both very healthy and one of them's bound to marry and have children sooner or later, even if Dycedarg's first marriage is supposed to have been something of a disaster and Zal's engagement not much less of one." Ramza shrugged.

"And so that's how my birth name is different to my... 'legal' name. How about we leave the rest of the story until after we've eaten?" He asked, realising it was full-dark now.

* * *

Ladd sat down next to a preoccupied Ramza, immediately after dinner, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"It's the right thing to do, laddie. Are you going to be all right telling them about your brothers and Tietra and all that, though?" He asked quietly.

"I need to. I'm Dycedarg Beoulve's brother, remember? I know only too well that lying by omission is still lying and can be just as harmful... and I've been doing it for long enough now." Ramza muttered back, a bitter tone in his voice at the mention of his brother.

Ramza looked up and met Lady Agrias' questioning eyes across the fire.

"Have you had enough for tonight, Ramza, or can you finish the story? I want to understand why the bitterness towards Zalbaag as well as Lord Dycedarg, it... you know I was his ADC, it matters to me because he and I became... friendly, I suppose."

"You were close?" Ramza asked.

"I thought so at the time but... well, given that he was so vague about his youngest brother and sister that I had the impression that you were younger than Alma, then perhaps not. If I'd known that you were the elder, then perhaps I'd have realised who you were. The Princess knows, doesn't she?" Ramza just nodded. "I had thought you must... well, never mind."

"What?" The look Lady Agrias had given him was vaguely guilty, he thought.

"How much older is Lord Dycedarg than you?" She asked, then actually bit her lip.

"Twenty-one years... Oh!" There was a long pause, then Ramza went on slowly. "You said 'you _are_ a Beoulve' as if you had already worked it out, this afternoon. Only... you thought I was _Dycedarg's_...? I know how Delita felt, now!" Agrias frowned at him, questioningly.

"The evening before he 'died', we realised Delita was probably a Holy Knight; we'd fought Wiegraf Folles that day. I... well... I still assumed that what I had been told about sword techniques only running in families – familes of the nobility – was true, so I blurted out something about him maybe being Dycedarg's son... Delita never really trusted Dycedarg, I think, so he was very upset and offended at the implication... Delita always was a lot brighter than me... and a lot less trusting... or, well, I think _naïve_ is probably the more accurate term than 'trusting'." Ramza's tone turned slightly bitter and everyone else just stayed quiet.

"Anyway... _so..._ the story. You said once something about a squad from the Akademy 'going rogue' during the campaign against the Corpse Brigade, La... Agrias? That was _my_ squad. This all revolves around those few months, which should have been my last term at the Akademy..."

It took about an hour and a half, including a brief break after nearly an hour, for Ramza to get a drink when his voice started to get croaky with speaking some much, but finally he wrapped it all up with:

"Obviously, though, Delita _isn't_ dead and now... all of this. A couple of years back Delita made a passing comment that implied that Zalbaag was something like Dycedarg's puppet and, in my misplaced devotion to Zalbaag, I flew off the handle at him, but he was right, wasn't he?... At least, I'd rather think that he was right and that _one_ of my brothers is just incredibly weak, rather than... actually_ evil_." His voice trailed off until he almost whispered those last words, his voice hoarse. He pushed himself to his feet.

"Give me a couple of minutes; this hasn't been an easy tale to tell." He said and strode off into the night.

"I shouldn't have made him tell us." Agrias said quietly.

"He had screwed his courage up for it, and I think he needed to tell it and we needed to hear it. That's a lot more detail than he's even told me before, by the way." Ladd paused for a long moment. "Not a pretty story, is it?" All five heads shook, including Ladd's own, and they all stared into the fire for the best part of a minute.

"Should one of us go after him?" Alicia asked quietly. Ladd opened his mouth, then shut it again, then shrugged before he finally spoke.

"Not this time, I think; best just to let him be for a while."

The five of them, full of disquieting thoughts, moved to make the camp as secure as possible for the night ahead.

* * *

**Author' Note:**

Honestly, I'd have probably had Ramza come clean and tell everyone who he was a while ago, if I hadn't been restricted to keeping it a secret until now. I hate lack of communication in stories, I think it's a terrible, lazy plot device. (It's part of the reason I just can't bring myself to finish reading Robert Jordan's 'Wheel of Time' series – I wanted to throttle almost every single character while shouting 'the ability to communicate; it's a major part of what separates humans from animals!' OK, there were plenty of other things that irritated me about those books too, but I'm not going into them here, as I'd end up typing a 3-page rant!)

I'm making no promises about getting back to my roughly three posts per fortnight schedule, but I do promise that it certainly won't be as long between this update and the next one as it was between this and the last one!


	19. 19 - Compatibility

Well, I did promise not to leave as big a gap between posting new Vignettes. I just got an idea late last night about what to do for this one, so I hope two in two days is OK with everyone! This one is pretty short, though, so sorry about that!

So, this in-game 'day' is the scene where Wiegraf gets recruited by the Templarate, then the one where Ovelia finds out that she's not actually a princess. Our 'team' can't actually do anything, other than move to a new 'dot' and then those scenes play out. That played its part in me leaving the Vignettes alone for such a long time; I had no idea what to do with this one. I felt I should try to do something with Wiegraf, probably, or maybe an incredibly confused and distressed Ovelia. I finally decided to keep it simple and mostly just stick with Ramza and co. Since I have the time and space to do it, this is going to be an 'explore the game mechanics' scene with a bit of comic relief thrown in, before the grand finale.

* * *

**Vignette 19 – Compatibility**

_Balias Swale, Early Afternoon_

"You don't honestly believe in that crap, do you?" Mustadio asked as they walked along the river bank, perhaps a mile North of where they had fought against the Griffon Knights chasing Agrias, two days before.

"You just told me that your Aimed Shots 'inexplicably' seem to work more easily against some people than others. That probably means that their success is based around birthsign compatibility too." Ramza said, adjusting his hold on the tired baby chocobo that he was currently carrying in his arms. It chirruped at him and Boco, walking beside him, leant across and made a low 'kweh' at it.

"Oh, what a load of superstitious nonsense!" Mustadio retorted.

"It's not, you know. My Sword Techniques are invariably successful in hitting anyone, but if I made the two of you stand next to each other and used Hallowed Bolt, I would probably _kill_ Ladd, even though he's pretty strong, but I wouldn't hurt you very seriously at all." Agrias put in from where she walked with Alicia, ahead of the two young men.

"Huh?" Was Mustadio's eloquent response. He did give Ramza a covert look though, eyebrows raised. It was the first time Agrias had spoken more than two words at once to him since her storm of tears two evenings before. She did elaborate, but she didn't turn around to look at him as she did so.

"Ladd and I have superb compatibility, birthsign-wise, you and I, on the other hand have very poor compatibility. I can't really hurt you all that much... not with a single Sword Technique, anyway... For future reference, however, Mustadio, I _will_ be quite happy to use multiple Sword Techniques on you, should your so-called 'flirting' get out of hand." She added severely.

He rolled his eyes at her back, then got a rather devilish glint in his eye. It was Ramza's turn to roll _his_ eyes, this time at Mustadio, he also shook his head vehemently. He was sure that, despite his silent warning, Mustadio had decided to take Agrias' warning as a challenge; Ramza felt certain that Mustadio was about to begin exploring where the boundary with 'out of hand' lay.

"You're getting too big and too heavy for me to do this for long, Achaios." Ramza murmured to the chick as he bent to set it down on its own two feet next to its mother. Glancing over at Mustadio he was relieved not to see the mischief he had expected to be writ large across it, directed at Agrias.

"I'm still not convinced." Was all Mustadio said at first, then the sort of smile Ramza had been glad not to have seen crept onto his face and he raised his voice a little. "I hope that this compatibility thing doesn't work with relationships too – you have no idea how _devastated_ I'd be if I found out you and I were incompatible in that way too, Agrias." He said, dramatically putting a hand to his heart, for all she wasn't looking at him. She only sighed and otherwise ignored him, while Ramza dug him in the ribs with his elbow.

"It's all right; she's a lot better, today." Mustadio said in an undertone. "Haven't you noticed how much more focused and determined her whole demeanour is? Stop fretting."

"That's a good enough reason for you to get all suicidal again, is it?" Ramza muttered back.

"It's all in good fun; she enjoys it really."

"Uh-huh." Ramza said, disbelief stark in his voice.

"How does this all, supposedly, work, then?" Mustadio asked – he was clearly interested in the 'phenomenon' of birthsigns, even if he didn't give it much credence. "So Ladd and Agrias have superb compatibility, huh? What about me, do I have 'superb compatibility' with anyone here?"

"Lavian." Ramza said. "It's why we always have her heal you after battles, and why I had you learn Cure, so that you can do the same for her. In general, she can do more for you with a simple Cure than I could with a Cura, even though I'm strong for a man, magickally speaking."

"Hmm." Mustadio glanced back over his shoulder to where Lavian and Ladd were walking together about twenty metres behind them, a barely suppressed smirk on his face.

"Hey Lavian, so you and me... hey!" The second 'hey' had come when the core of the apple Lavian had been eating as she was walking along hit him squarely between his eyes.

"Such a pity she's become so keen on magic." Ramza muttered as Mustadio demanded to know what that had been for. "With an aim like that she'd make a superb ninja!"

"Pre-emptive strike." Lavian said in response to Mustadio's demand.

"What?"

"I saw that look on your face, Mustadio!" She said.

"Seriously, Mustadio, it doesn't have anything to do with _that_ sort of compatibility!" Ramza said.

"Why is everyone assuming that I was about to say..."

"Because we've _all_ seen that look on your face before." Ladd put in, as he and Lavian caught them up.

"It's a vile calumny, a stain on my otherwise spotless reputation..." Rather than the indignation that the words might suggest, Mustadio's voice was dry.

"Your _what_ reputation?" Lavian asked.

"Huh!" Mustadio folded his arms and pretended to stomp off in a huff. Ladd heard Ramza give a huff of quiet laughter and so he jogged over to where Mustadio was stalking away and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Keep it up, it seems to be working." Mustadio raised his brows at him then, smiling slightly, threw a glance back over his shoulder at where Ramza was now speaking quietly with Lavian still with a half-smile on his face.

"Good. And Agrias is more on her mettle today too; I think the two of them should be fine by tomorrow."

"Yeah... And they'll need to be... The birthsign thing _is_ real, by the way." Ladd said in a louder tone as he took Mustadio by the upper arm and drew him back towards the others, all four of whom were now walking together in a group around Boco and Achaios.

"Honestly?" Mustadio's tone was still sceptical.

"Yup." Ladd looked thoughtful for a moment. "From what I saw with Wilfrid, it doesn't hurt to be Arm-shot, right?"

"No, it's just a mechanical way of Disabling someone."

"Then try Arm-shotting Agrias - you'll see; it won't be easy."

"Ladd!" The Lady in question glowered at him.

"What? You'll still be able to walk about and talk, even if it works, and chances are it won't. Besides, Ramza's got White Magic for his secondary today, so he'll Esuna you, worst comes to worst. It's just to prove a point." He gave her a winning smile, which she ignored.

"No! What if we're attacked before Ramza can Esuna me?"

"Ah, it's been very quiet today and Alicia's singing, earlier, drove any beasties away."

"Hey!" That was from Alicia this time. Occasionally, they would sing as they walked and it had to be admitted that Alicia couldn't have carried a tune in a bucket.

"Erm, Ladd..." Ramza whispered as he leant towards his friend. "I don't actually _know_ Esuna."

"Ah... Well... Mustadio no!" Too late. There was a resounding 'CRACK' and Mustadio, giving her his most mischievous grin, had Arm-shot Agrias. Though the chances of her actually being Disabled had been low, there had still been _some_ chance and, probability and sod's law being what they were, it had actually worked, this time. As Ramza sheepishly explained to her that he couldn't, in fact, lift the Disable and that she'd have to wait it out, she whirled about to glare at the other two men who had begun to quietly back away.

"If I were you two, I'd be as far away from me as possible when this wears off!" She almost growled.

They glanced at each other and took off at a fast lope in the Lionel direction.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

So the next one will be at Lionel and, I think, will be something a bit different. Then it'll just be the epilogue and that will wrap up Chapter 2 of the game.


	20. 20 - Cold

So, I said this would be a bit different. For starters, it involves combat – though it's not the most dramatic of action sequences, I admit – and almost the whole thing is from a certain PoV – it should become obvious whose, even before the name is mentioned, or I didn't do a very good job in this Chapter's first few vignettes.

* * *

**Vignette 20 – Cold**

_North Gate of Lionel Castle, early afternoon_

_Look at that cocky little bastard just nonchalantly climbing over the wall there! Just who does the little shit think he is?_

Of course, apparently, a couple of days before Gaffgarion arrived at Lionel that stupid bitch he'd assumed was a total waste of space had stormed the Cardinal's Palace on her own, having used this route to get in, and had nearly succeeded in rescuing the princess, after indiscriminately killing Griffon Knights, left, right and centre, so maybe a little of the cockiness was warranted, since she'd be on the other side of the gate. He knew that Holy Knights were generally considered to be more powerful than Fell Knights, since half of their Sword Techniques could hit multiple targets - and though it galled him to admit it, even to himself, it was true to some extent. Of course, his Techniques allowed him to keep himself alive so much more easily that her, so it was swings and roundabouts...

He continued to watch that bloody idiot, Ramza _Beoulve_, obliviously climbing over the castle walls as if he didn't keep getting ambushed because he never planned, just _reacted_. In his own way, the useless little bastard was just as arrogant and smugly self-righteous as his half-brothers. If it hadn't been for the reward he'd known he'd get from Dycedarg Beoulve – _Lord_ Dycedarg and for the gods' sake don't forget to use the man's title anywhere he might hear about it or he got very nasty very quickly, so it was best never to form the habit of not using it, even in one's own thoughts – yes, if it hadn't been for the potential reward, he'd have told Ladd exactly where he could stick the idea of taking on the useless little prig. Just one glance, though, he'd realised exactly who he was; the boy's resemblance to his father, as well as to his brother, Dycedarg, for that matter – _Lord_ Dycedarg – was very clear from the first moment.

It had been _very_ interesting that they boy had acknowledged himself to be a bastard. He'd wondered, for a moment, if he had the right kid but everything fit together too well for him not to be the missing Beoulve brat that Lord Dycedarg had told all of his contacts to be on the lookout for.

He'd checked into that, last time he was in Eagrose, and the Church register made for very interesting reading – at least, one of the pages did – the record of the marriage of Lord Barbaneth Beoulve to Miss Merissa Lugria, when Ramza must have been about five years old. That meant that the _fine young lady_ who had looked down her nose had him when he'd been at Eagrose Mansion last week was also illegitimate – uppity little madam!

He hadn't yet worked out a way to extort a sum worthy of keeping his mouth permanently shut about that little titbit from the Earl of Eagrose – not and keep himself alive, anyhow; crossing Lord Dycedarg was a good way to dramatically reduce your own life expectancy. After he'd been forced out of the army, he'd heard rumours that the old Earl had had a fancy piece, he'd just never realised that said fancy piece had managed to snare the old lord so thoroughly. He was pretty sure that Lord Dycedarg must have had a hand in hushing the whole thing up – that situation had the feel of his work about it.

"Wait there. I'll open the gate." He heard Ramza call, as the boy leant over the parapet.

_Really? _Good gods! Could the useless little bastard honestly think it was going to be _that_ easy?

Well, enough was enough, time to take the boy down. He stepped forward and saying something about letting the gate remain shut, swung his sword, sucking away Ramza's health from a distance, even as he replenished his own – or it would have, had it needed any replenishing. Damn, the boy had instantly whipped out a Potion – no, a Hi-Potion, by the looks of it – and immediately healed right back up. Well, that always had been Ramza's favourite counter-move in a fight; he might call the boy a useless bastard but the kid was actually a cautious one, who never took risks unnecessarily – in that, the boy was obnoxiously like his father! _That_ man had coddled his troops to within an inch of their lives; so damned reluctant was he to spill a drop of his own men's blood. What the hell were foot-soldiers for, anyway, if it wasn't for flinging straight at the enemy, so that you didn't have to risk yourself?

Ramza had raised a hand in his gesture of casting as he carefully clambered down from the wall and Gaffgarion could feel the tingle of magic aimed right at him. Well, whatever the boy was doing Gaffgarion would just suck enough health right back from him to heal up and he could keep doing that up until the little bastard ran out of Hi-Potions.

Shit! Shit! _Shit_! _Disabled_! He should probably give that bastard more credit; legitimate or not, the kid was a Beoulve and they were invariably good, tactically speaking. But, hell, unless that was a lucky hit, the boy must have some pretty impressive magic boosting stuff on under that dingy-looking armour of his, to land a Hesitation spell and make it stick; the two of them were both the same birthsign, he believed, so they weren't even unusually compatible. He ran, trying to get enough distance between him and Ramza, but he didn't get far enough and he couldn't help but let out a groan of pain as the next spell – Thundara – lanced through his body.

Rather than coming to finish him off, though, Ramza had darted past him. What? Ajora's arse! Straight for the gate release lever. To add insult to injury, Ramza simply ignored him and dashed off again, this time through the gate. What the hell was going on? This wasn't at _all_ what he had expected.

He was reluctant to put himself in harm's way until the spell wore off, but he needed to see what was happening, so he hovered within the shadows of the gatehouse's archway and watched the fight. Reluctantly, as he assessed the ebb and flow of the battle, he had to admit that Ramza moved with the grace and confidence of a born warrior – useless little bastard though he was. He certainly didn't look or act like the usual fragile mage... in fact, it was like watching Barbaneth Beoulve reborn.

That was slightly frightening, actually; even though he hadn't been able to use Sword Techniques - and Gaffgarion usually had little to fear from anyone who couldn't - the previous Earl of Eagrose had been terrifying for the opposition on a battlefield and Gaffgarion had always secretly been pleased that they had never fought on opposite sides. It shocked him to realise that Ramza had the potential to induce as much terror as his father – more so, perhaps, since he could use magic proficiently, which could often do more damage than any weapon, especially due to its ability to hit multiple enemies. Barbaneth had been no mage, though. If what he understood was correct, that had been the province of the old man's fancy piece and, in that, the boy had obviously taken after his mother.

This fight was _not_ going well for the Griffon Knights. The summoner and both of the archers – who he had bloody well hand picked – were already dead, soon to crystalise, if nothing was done... Ah, but this was more like it! All three knights were now surrounding that smug bitch, Agrias. One of them had already smashed her breastplate off her and, as he watched with barely suppressed glee, another managed to splinter her sword, rendering her useless. The third, unfortunately, had just been hit by that bloody Machinist and seemed to have just been Immobilised, the way she had gone rigid on the spot. Shit, just out of range of Agrias too. He wondered how you did that with a gun; buggered if he knew, even though he'd been hit like that himself at the beginning of the Galllows fight two days ago.

He watched with a wince as both of the still-mobile knights were hit simultaneously by a Thundara from one of Agrias' two bitches, whose names he had never seen the point in learning, and then he felt the Disable begin to lift, so he hefted his sword and stepped out of the shadows.

Before he could get close enough to any of them to do anything, he felt the tingle of magic again. Ramza, the little shit, must have known exactly where he was all along and had just been ignoring him as if he was of no consequence. He didn't have time to do anything but wait to see if the first Hesitation had really just been a fluke.

Apparently, it hadn't. Again Ramza followed the Mystic Arts spell up with Black Magick and this time the Thundara drove Gaffgarion to his knees. Then a shot rang out and as well as being Disabled he was pinned to the spot. So this was how his end was to come about...

But no, apparently not quite yet, anyway. He was going to be ignored again, while they finished off the three knights. It had been against his better judgement to use bloody female knights – useless bitches all of them; women were good for only two things, housework and spreading their legs – but sodding women were what he had been given, so that was what he had to use. He grudgingly admitted to himself that the three men he'd picked out himself had, if anything, fared worse.

When the Immobilise wore off he'd have to see about making a run for it... well, dragging himself to safety was more likely than actual running! He wasn't going to let the Beoulve bastard take him down this way, not if he could help it. He was better than this and, as far as he was concerned, the Cardinal could go and fuc-...

Oh, Ajora's arse and armpits! The last of those useless bitches fell dead, Ladd's fist smashing into the side of her head – since when was he a monk, anyway? And now he was the last one left alive, though he didn't suppose that would be for long. None of them had any reason to let him live...

* * *

Ramza watched impassively as Lavian's Thunder spell hit Gaffgarion, the last of their opponents. The man's eyes began to glaze over and he slurred out something about being cold.

"Goodbye, Gaffgarion." He murmured as the body slumped forward and, shockingly, _instantaneously_ crystallised. Ramza mouth dropped open and he stared. That _definitely_ wasn't supposed to happen! Something was very strange, _very_ wrong here; they'd need to be extra wary as they moved on into the Palace.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Sorry about the bad language and the tone; it's just how Gaffgarion is. I've had it in my head for a long time that I wanted to do his death-scene from Gaffgarion's PoV, but that was actually fairly unpleasant to do, given that I had to write from his bitter, twisted and utterly misogynistic point of view. My fault; I decided that was the man he was.

Sorry, also, to be demanding but, since I was trying something a bit different, I'd appreciate any feedback you can give about this one, if you have the time to review.

There will be an epilogue, and it will be set on the same day as this, a little after the next (Lucavi) fight. It won't be an all-bells-and-whistles affair, like the epilogue for the last one, though; I don't have anything special planned, just your run-of-the-mill scene detailing their reactions to finding out that demons actually exist.


End file.
